To Destroy
by walkingwithgiants
Summary: In the words of Abe Lincoln, "The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend." Bella works for a man that makes her teeth grind. "My boss is an asshole," she cried.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys. I don't know what exactly I'm doing with this idea. I'm winging it again, but please don't expect it to be a 60 plus chapter monstrosity like ILMN or a daily-updater. Maybe twice a week? I really shouldn't even be considering starting something up because I need to finish ILMN and then work on my other work, but meh. My mistakes are my own, as always. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own like six different deodorants.

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><p>"Bella?" The nasally voice in the cubicle behind mine rang out.<p>

I tensed up and even stopped moving my mouse across the pad to make sure I heard my name being called. _What the hell was the twatsicle doing calling my name? _When I didn't say anything within three seconds, the chair that belonged to the voice, whom I considered to be Satan's disciple, squeaked across the plastic mat it laid on. I snorted to myself, thinking of just how lazy she had to be to roll her chair instead of just getting up and taking two steps over.

"Bella?" The voice repeated in an exasperated tone.

This was strange. Beyond strange, so I kept my mouth closed and waited to see what would happen. I'd worked at Masen Super Markets Incorporated, or MSM as most employees called it, for almost a year and could count on one hand the number of times that the female just a few feet away from me, had spoken to me. I preferred to assume she was a hermaphrodite or better yet, exactly what I believed her to be- a demon in human skin. We were the only employees on the floor who had cubicles and they were _right_ next to each other. For lack of a better explanation as to why we never spoke directly, Lauren Mallory was a world class bitch. There are very few people that I would ever consider calling a bitch, but she was at the top of my list, as well as my other list, which consisted of people I'd like to run over if I wouldn't go to jail for it. I'd probably pull a Clara Harris and reverse over her fractured form for the hell of it, if I could.

I'm a nice person, I know this, but she brings out the worst in me. I have to fight the urge to spit in her face every time her mouth is open. The problem is, this was pretty much every hour of every day because she never closes it.

On my first day of my contractual employment, she announced to the floor of employees we worked on, that I was there as a temp. I was a contract employee. Therefore, in her mind, I was below her and everyone else who worked in our department of Corporate Purchasing. Really, it wasn't a big deal that everyone knew I was a temp. I didn't care, it was the truth. Lauren and I did the _exact_ same job. We were glorified assistants, but the difference was that even though she was technically an MSM employee, I was _good_ at my job and everyone I worked with, knew it.

Lauren knew it, and hated me for it. She pretended like I didn't exist every chance she got, like I carried leprosy or something of that nature. On the handful of times we'd spoken, once of us would end up calling the other something along the lines of a cunt-tard or a bitch. The cunt-tard caller was myself, of course.

"Bella? Jesus F. Christ, are you deaf?" She finally snapped at my silence.

"No and I'd ask you if you were stupid, but we both already know the answer to that," I finally responded pulling my hand away from my mouse and spun my chair to face the edge of my cubicle.

A few moments later, her ash blonde head peaked out from the side of our cubicles, brown eyes shooting daggers at me while her jaw clenched. "You are such a b-i-t-c-h!" She whisper-hissed, looking neurotic. "I'm going to write your temp agency a letter and tell them you're sleeping on the job, you lint-licking b-i-t-c-h."

I had to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. I pointed at the office doors that were just a couple feet away from our cubicles and widened my eyes. "Lauren, you do know that everyone here can spell right?"

Her pale face steamed red before she gritted her teeth, eyeing the doors I'd just indicated. "Jasper wants to see you in his office, stat," she spat, looking at the doors again.

I stared at her, well more at the colony of zits that were lining the underside of her eyebrows from her botched wax job. Didn't she know that she could pluck or thread if she had allergies to wax? I must have looked at her for too long because she rolled her eyes and mumbled something like, "Fucking idiot," under her breath before rolling her chair back over to her cubicle.

Locking my computer, I didn't think anything of getting called into Jasper's office. Jasper Whitlock was our boss, he was the manager of the floor and probably the nicest guy in the company. Not that I'd made an effort to meet many people here at the company because I usually stayed on this floor and only ate with people in our group, but either way, I think he would still be one of the nicest people in the entire continent. I couldn't think of a time, no matter how stressed he was, that he'd ever lost his temper or said anything negative about anyone. Besides Lauren. Fortunately, I helped him out with anything and everything he needed because he was well aware of the fact that Lauren was an idiot who confused PowerPoint with Excel on a daily basis.

On my first day here, he was the second person to make an effort to be nice to me. As soon as human resources had led me to the fourth floor and dropped me off right outside of his office, he'd ushered me in, handed me a package of Kit Kat bars, and in a thick Texas accent drawled out, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan." When everyone else was cold and polite when I first started, Jasper was warm and inviting, he took me to lunch and made sure I never ate by myself at the beginning.

I knocked on his half-way open door and waited until he bellowed, "Come in, Bella."

His office was the size of my studio apartment, with large and expensive furniture pressed against the large floor to ceiling windows that took up an entire wall. "Hey Jasper," I said, taking just a couple of steps in.

Dark blue eyes peeked at me from over the top of his computer monitor, pleased that I'd called him by his first name like he'd asked me to months ago. "Sit down," he instructed, sliding his chair over so that his handsome face wasn't hidden by the massive screen.

"Lauren said that you wanted to see me," I told him, plopping down on one of the chairs across from him. It had taken me all of about two days after I started to get over the fact that my boss was better looking that most men on television. Lauren, unlike me, still got all googly-eyed every time she saw him. The only other times I'd ever seen the same expression on her face was when an attractive man from another floor would come by ours, or hours after she'd take her ex-lax pills and pay the toilet a visit.

Jasper grinned at me, retying his shaggy, longish blond hair behind back in a sloppy ponytail, which was his usual hair do while working in his office. "I sure did, Bella," he winked at me before opening up his drawer and pulling out a file folder, setting it on top of his desk. "You like working here, right?" I nodded in response and narrowed my eyes in his direction, all of a sudden a little nervous as to where this conversation could be heading. "You know that I respect and appreciate all of the hard work you've done here with me?"

"Yes..." my stomach started hurting as my mind raced. _Was he letting me go? _I tried to think of anything I could have done to make him fire me. Maybe it was Lauren. Maybe she'd told him about the time I called her a cunt nugget?

_Crap_. _Crap. Crap. Crap._

I liked my job. I liked the routine and most of my coworkers, I'd been a lot happier here than at any other company I'd ever worked before. It'd be a lie if I said that I could care less if I got fired. How the hell was I going to pay my bills between jobs? I eyed his trash can in anticipation of the puke that would escape from the deepest bowels of my body if he told me I was a goner.

He slid the file folder over the top of his desk, towards me, his smile turning gentle. "Two weeks ago, Mrs. Cope, who is Mr. Cullen's executive assistant put in her thirty day notice," he explained.

Mr. Cullen?

_Mr. Cullen_.

There was Edward Cullen, who was the Chief Financial Officer of the company and then there was Carlisle Cullen, our Chairman and also Edward's father.

Before I could dwell on which Mr. Cullen he was talking about any longer, I tried to pay attention and follow where Jasper was going with this. "They've been trying to find a replacement for her, but for one reason or another they didn't choose any of the obvious choices," he continued softly. Those dark eyes glittered in what I hoped was amusement. "I recommended you for the job, Bella. You're smart, young, and work harder than any other person on this floor and human resources as well as the older Mr. Cullen, agreed with me."

He flipped the page of the folder open revealing a crisp white sheet that had my name and a salary that included a number only seen when purchasing a luxury vehicle. "If you're interested in accepting the position, human resources has already put together an offer for you to review." I leaned forward in the chair, reading as quickly as I could the numbers and benefits typed out. There was something about a 401K and health insurance, and oh gosh, my _salary_. "You'd be working a lot of hours, Bella. Maybe twice as many as you do now and traveling with Mr. Cullen, but I think it's a really good position for you while you finish school."

My mind was racing, trying to understand what I was being offered. A steady job. Good money. Benefits. Sure, from what Jasper was telling me it'd be a lot of hours, but it's not like I had anything else to do. I'd have to take less credit hours, but at least I'd make enough not to take out any more school loans, I thought.

"I'm sure this is a lot for you to take into consideration, Bella, but we can give you until the end of the week to decide whether or not you want to accept the-"

"I'll do it," I told him before he even finished talking.


	2. Chapter 2

*sigh* I swear I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't going to be posting this daily, but it came to me _so_ easily, I couldn't help myself. Thank you to everyone who added this onto your alerts! A bigger thank you to those who reviewed! You guys are great. My mistakes are my own, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own Fella though (you'll see).

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><p>My hands trembled with excitement and anticipation on my trek back to my desk with Jasper. He'd walked with me over to the floor human resources was on and introduced me to Janet, some kind of supervisor type secretary who handled all the new employees. After filling out so much paperwork that rivaled the amount signed when buying a new car or house, Janet explained to me that my insurance coverage would start at the beginning of the month and welcomed me officially to the company.<p>

I think she meant well, but it was kind of insulting. Just a tiny bit. Like I hadn't been working here for the past year.

"I'm excited for you, Bella," Jasper said quietly as we approached my desk.

Looking up at him, I smiled and nodded, distracted momentarily by the azure color of his eyes. "Me too, I'm just nervous." I lowered my voice, "What if I mess up?"

"You probably will," he chuckled, immediately making my stomach plummet. I wanted to ask him _what the hell?_ But he beat me to it. "Don't stress out about it, though. No one expects you to be perfect," he winced at his word choice and I caught his expression before he backtracked. "You can do it, don't worry."

Jasper patted my back, veering off towards his office, leaving me on my route towards my cubicle. I wondered for a second why he'd made a face after saying that no one expected me to be perfect, but I shrugged it off. When I passed Lauren's desk, I caught her head snapping around to watch me and while I half expected her head to keep twisting like the girl in The Exorcism, it didn't. Taking in my small part of the department floor, I realized that I didn't keep very many things in my little workstation, maybe unconsciously because of the monthly uncertainty of my position. I grabbed the stash of granola bars I had in my drawer, the picture of my parents I'd propped up against the wall of my desk, and a glass jar of change I kept for vending machine runs.

While I felt unbelievably relieved that I now held a steady job for the first time in my life, the sudden weight of my decision came down on me. I was going to freaking work with the CFO of the company. The CFO. This wasn't easygoing Jasper who put his hair in a ponytail and blasted out Twisted Sister from his office on the mornings he had meetings in order to pump himself up. This was the CF-freaking O. _You can do this_, I reminded myself. Jasper thought I could do it, and if he thought so, then it was possible. Steeling my nerves as best as I could, I finished shoving my granola bars deeper into my purse so that they wouldn't fall out and then unlocked my computer so I could completely log out.

"Where do you think you're going?" Nasal voice asked while I was typing in my password.

I didn't bother turning around to see where her voice was coming from. I mean, this would be the seventh time in twelve months that she'd directly spoken to me, so why would I try to let her add another number to the tally? Maybe I was being a little childish, but I frankly didn't give half a shit.

A gasp from behind tore me away from my thoughts. Lauren was standing not three feet behind me, holding her hand to her mouth with her eyes wide. "Oh my god! You're finally getting the ax?"

I rolled my eyes and stood up, picking up my purse at the same time. "Technically," I said, smirking.

The little bitch started hopping for a second before she stopped abruptly, her wide eyes significantly enlarging. "Wait, if you're leaving then who's going to do your half of the work now?"

"Don't know, don't care," I kind of chuckled. I realized Lauren was going to be screwed until they found someone else to come in and cover the position I was leaving. Jasper had assured me on the walk back from HR that it was fine for me to leave and that Lauren could take care of whatever work I didn't finish. My inner bitch may have cackled in glee. "See ya," I I smiled at her, this smug looking face, one last time before walking past her and heading towards the exit door.

The walk from the doors, to the elevator, and finally down to the contract employee parking floor seemed to take forever. What had seemed like a close walk the other 272 days I'd done it, now seemed like a half marathon. As soon as I had gotten into my car, I pulled out my old Samsung flip phone and speed dialed my best friend, well actually my only real friend: Angela.

"What do you want, Fella?" She answered, whispering. Ignoring her nickname for me, I knew she was at work and that her boss was almost as big of a bitch as Lauren was, so I couldn't ask her to speak up.

"Ang, I got a real job!"

She gasped so quietly I thought she could have used a mouse in her place. "No way! Where?"

I almost giggled at the way she tried to hide her excitement at my news. "MSM, they're hiring me full time as an executive assistant to the freaking CFO," I pretty much screeched into the receiver.

Angela squealed into her phone, which sounded like a distorted pig noise because I was sure she was pressing her mouth directly into the receiver. "Fancy pants! Not even just a regular assistant but an executive. I'd whoop but Meryl Streep has her office door open." Ever since I'd forced her to watch _The Devil Wears Prada_, she'd been calling her boss Meryl Streep, which was _so_ fitting for the boss who was never pleased.

"Thanks! They let me leave-"

"Shit! She's getting out of her chair. I'll call you back!" Angela hissed before disconnecting the call a half second later.

Tossing my phone back into my purse, I shrugged off the abrupt call because it was pretty typical of a workplace conversation between Ang and I. Even though Jasper didn't seem to care if I talked on my phone or not, I really tried to keep it to a minimum. That was, unless Lauren decided to wear a g-string under her tight ass skirt and I caught a glimpse of a couple of butt dimples. That definitely required an emergency call.

On my drive home, I couldn't help but think that all of this happening almost seemed like fate. It was already the end of the month as well as the week, and first thing Monday morning, the first day of the new month, I'd be starting as an executive assistant to the CFO. The more I said it in my head, the snobbier it sounded. Maybe I'd just call myself a secretary. I'd rather sound like I worked for a normal person instead of the head of one of the most successful, privately owned super markets in the south.

I'd have the whole weekend to get into the right mindset to go in on Monday and learn as much as I could from the current assistant before she left. The feeling of overwhelming dread filled the cavity of my stomach one more time, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd gotten in over my head.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Hey guysss, here's a new update. Thank you all for reading! I'll respond to old reviews tomorrow (I'm super far behind on this story and even more so with ILMN). My mistakes are my own. Enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, I just like to borrow SM's character names._**

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><p><strong><em>Monday<em>**

The waves of anxiety that rolled through my stomach threatened to capsize my inner boat.

My hands were shaking as I hit the button for the floor I'd be going to from now on. There was something so final about knowing that I was hired permanently, that both scared and thrilled me.

I'd spent the entire weekend at my studio, looking through my work clothes for what would still be considered appropriate now that I'd be working for the big dogs, and what I'd need to buy. There was a lot I'd gotten away with back with Jasper, khaki pants, polos, and flats were pretty much my uniform. After a fifteen minute long rant from Angela, who shared a similar position as the one I'd be taking, I learned that khaki pants, polos, and flats were not real office attire.

With a promise to my credit card that I'd be gentle, I hit up the mall on Saturday and bought a handful of new pants, a couple of skirts, and a seven shirts to start my rotation of work clothes. Under normal circumstances, I stayed away from using my credit card. Paying my bills was hard enough without the added of expense of living out of my means, but now I tried to consider my clothing as an investment.

I wrung my hands, cracked the knuckles, and waited for what felt like forever until the elevator stopped on my designated floor. It was only 7:50 in the morning; I'd made an effort to get up earlier so I could start getting to work before my day started. Jasper had never really cared what time anyone really made it in as long as work got done, but I didn't want to chance it with the CFO. _Ugh_. My stomach rolled again at the senior title.

As soon as the heavy elevator doors opened, I caught sight of the fancy burgundy colored carpet of the floor. While MSM wasn't _exactly_ frugal with the building of it's headquarters, it was easy to tell that they definitely went out of their way with the higher, executive floors. The carpet back on the Corporate Purchasing floor was just a flat, spotted gray carpet. This flooring looked fancy. Even the walls were painted in a rich, gold color instead of flat heather. I followed the long hallway down, having been up here once to drop off a packet for Jasper, I knew that the office was way down from the elevators past the glass doors just a few feet away.

Once past the glass doors and right before the hallway turned right to go into the CFO's offices, I spotted the small break room to the left and ducked inside. Even though I'd gone to bed early, by my standards, I'd tossed and turned the entire night. I had the pre-first day jitters like I did back in school. The coffee machine, as well as what looked to be a cappuccino machine, were set on top of the counter to the left of a kitchen sink and stainless steel fridge. I think I may have raised an eyebrow at the fancy refrigerator because all we had downstairs was a plain, old, white one. Two small tables were curled onto the opposite wall.

While I would have liked to make a cappuccino, the espresso machine looked like it came from an alien spaceship and I wasn't in the mindset to tinkle around with it, hoping for the best. I set the filter, found the packets of ground coffee, and set the coffee machine to work. I grabbed my purse and hustled out of the room, seeing that the clock said 7:55 already. Winding my way through the corridor, I found the elderly woman I'd met once before sitting behind a large mahogany desk.

Mrs. Cope was old enough to be my grandmother, with snow white hair and glasses thicker than bulletproof glass, she smiled at me as I creeped up to her desk... well technically, my new desk, but who's keeping track? "Are you Miss Swan?" She asked, and I couldn't help but notice her sweet, chime-like voice.

"Yes ma'am," I answered, stopping right in front of her. My purse was clutched between my fingers, as I tried to stave off my nerves. What was there to be scared of? Mrs. Cope seemed completely harmless. I mean, she couldn't be a raving bitch and have a voice like pure sugar.

Her forehead wrinkled as she smiled, "Oh, aren't you sweet." She winked. "They told me you were young, but I didn't think you were fresh out of high school."

"Oh," I couldn't help but giggle. "I graduated high school awhile ago. I'm twenty-four."

Her pale, blue eyes widened at my admission. "Good for you, darling. You don't know what I'd do to look a little younger myself." Mrs. Cope pushed the glasses up her nose and gestured towards a black, rolling chair right behind her. "Why don't we get started?"

**_Tuesday_**

I learned five important things in the last twenty four hours:

1) Edward Cullen is very specific about his coffee. It has to be a specific temperature, two packets of raw sugar, one cream, and a specific white coffee mug that has 'Dartmouth' written across it in green letters. After having me prepare five different coffees, Mrs. Cope finally approved of my coffee making skills.

2) Edward Cullen does not like paperclips. Ever.

3) Edward Cullen never answers any of his calls, opens any of his mail, or seals any of his envelopes.

4) Mrs. Cope has no idea how to use her computer. I taught her how to blind carbon copy several people and it was like she learned that alchemy was possible.

5) Mrs. Cope spends half of her time looking through different catalogues when Mr. Cullen is out of the office. I found at least ten different magazines for porcelain dolls in her desk drawer.

In the middle of learning exactly how Mr. Cullen likes his memos composed, I turned to look at the closed office door and hooked a thumb to point at it. "Is he out of his office a lot?" I asked Mrs. Cope.

She'd been very quiet about telling me things about Mr. Cullen, besides how he liked things to be done. If I were to have been training someone to take over my position with Jasper, the first thing I would've told him is that he was a nice guy and a great boss. The wiry, old woman in front of me hadn't said the faintest word to describe how she felt about her boss. It was a little unnerving.

"He has a lot of meetings," she explained vaguely.

**_Wednesday_**

"Mrs. Cope?"

"Yes dear?"

I swallowed hard, looking at the desk calendar she had his meetings listed on. "Do you add Mr. Cullen's appointments to his Blackberry calendar?"

The quizzical look on her face tells me everything. There's a slight arch of a fine, nearly hairless eyebrow. "You mean his Blueberry phone?"

**_Thursday_**

I'm starting to get a little impatient. Over the last three days, I've felt like I've been waiting to find out the results to a pregnancy test or something like that. Mr. Cullen has been out of the office the entire week and the curiosity was killing me. At some point, whether it's days or months from now, there is a possibility that I'll regret the days I was anxious to have Mr. Cullen in the office, but now, I just want to meet him and get him over with. Everyday I've come into the office with a stomachache, waiting to introduce myself as his new assistant, but nothing.

His office is vacant.

I try to be sneaky and ask Mrs. Cope questions, but she's extremely vague with her answers. This is on the chance that she actually has answers. Many times, I've asked her something only to be answered with large, doe eyes. How the hell has she survived working up here when she can barely manage to use the computer?

Either this job is a lot easier than I expected or Mrs. Cope is a lucky lady that is pardoned from most duties. Actually, it's more like all of her duties, but who's counting?

**_Friday_**

_4:45_, thank you sweet baby Joseph I thought to myself.

Mrs. Cope had left fifteen minutes ago, claiming that she needed to pick her son from the airport, and left me here to wait out the clock to go home. From what it'd seemed this week while I shadowed her, the job has seemed way too easy. I had more responsibilities down with Jasper than I did upstairs, and that seemed really strange. I could only blame it on the fact that Mr. Cullen was gone and took all the work with him. I'm sitting at the desk I've been sharing with Mrs. Cope for the last four days, looking over the calendar for next week so that I can mentally prepare myself when I hear the doors down the hall open.

I really don't think anything of it considering it's Friday and the janitorial staff probably wants to hit up the floor for cleaning so they can leave early, so I keep busy looking through the online calendar I've set up, angling my chair so that it's facing the corner of the computer screen.

I hear the clearing of a throat before I see the barely confined mess of auburn hair over the top of my display. I recognized the hair in an instant.

The hair is a memory of my first day at MSM. They day that only Jasper and a stranger were nice to me. I'd been leaving for work, when I got to my car and found that the battery was dead. I don't know how long I stood there, hood open, bent over, staring into the abyss that is my engine and trying to figure out why the hell my car wouldn't start. Every other car around me left in the mean time, no one bothering to ask me if I needed any help or anything. I mean, it was the visitors' parking lot, and _no one_ tried to help me.

I'd been at the verge of tears until I felt a tap of fingers on my shoulder and came face to face with the same auburn hair with bronze highlights.

"Is there a reason why you're sitting there?" The coldly polite voice asked from the other side of the display, bringing me roughly out of my memory.

In a second, I was wheeling my chair to the side to look at the speaker full on, hoping that it was and wasn't the same man who had helped me out a year ago. "Umm..." I stuttered, taking in the very young, and so very good-looking man on the other side. He was crazy hair, bored green eyes, and a beautiful face rolled into a mask of impassivity. The look in his eye and the crooked twitch of his lips was anything but pretty. His eyes were cold and appraising, taking in my measurement of self-worth in an instant. The hot gaze trailed a fiery path over my face only once. "I'm waiting for it to be five so that I can leave?" I offered, stupidly, not thinking of anything else to say. "Can I help you?"

"You can help me," the beautiful man with light pink lips, spat. "By telling me why in the world you're sitting there. Is Mrs. Cope sick?"

It's not that I didn't have a thick skin; it wasn't the first time that someone had snapped at me for no freaking reason, but the man's tone was all sharp edges and clean lines that could give me paper cuts. Not wanting to be as rude as he was, I felt myself grinding my teeth subconsciously. "Mrs. Cope is gone for the day. I'm Mr. Cullen's new assistant, is there anything I can help you with?"

A snicker.

The man rubbed a hand over his face harshly before dropping it to his side. It was then that I took in the fact that he was wearing a black suit, crisp white shirt, and navy tie. My mind raced. Besides management, _no one_ wore suits to work. Ever. Jasper managed to get out of wearing his suit jacket half the time, and I knew for a fact that none of the men downstairs ever wore anything besides slacks, long sleeved shirts, and ties if they were so inclined. I groaned silently to myself at the same time that the man in front of me, sighed.

"I'm Mr. Cullen," he said in an annoyed tone. He dropped a stack of binded papers onto the corner of the desk. "You can _assist_ me by making me twenty copies of this pamphlet and putting each into a portfolio before you go." There was no _please_, no further questions about what my name was, no welcoming words into his office, nothing. The tall man with a pretty face, and dismissive attitude ducked into his office and left me there at 4:55 on a Friday with a bunch of shit to do.

Really, I tried to remind myself of how nice he'd been the first time we'd met a year ago, but it was freaking impossible. Impossible! I mean, shit! Who does that? Obviously this douche bag. Grabbing the collection of papers of the table, I ground my teeth together and hissed out what I had a feeling would become my mantra, "Fucking asshole."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Hello lovelies! Thank you all for your wonderful support! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, but life has been hectic and I've been concentrating on my other works. I'm still aiming for two updates a week, but... it's a stretch for me. I'll try! My mistakes are my own. _**

**_HAPPY THANKSGIVING!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, I just like to borrow her character names._**

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><p><em><strong>Saturday<strong>_

"I was there until 6:45, Ang," I tried my best to growl in her direction. "That asshole didn't even say thank you."

Angela laid on the floor across from me, ankles crossed, blowing onto her drying nail polish. "What a dick!"

That was one of the things I loved about Angela, she told me what she thought I wanted to hear, and when necessary, she'd knock some sense into me. She could've told me that it was pretty common for upper management to have their heads in their asses, or even that I already knew that this position entailed long hours, but she didn't. Instead, she scowled and called Mr. Cullen an "old tampon."

We'd been friends since high school, bonding when we were stuck in Home Ec together where we managed to burn just about every meal we were forced to make. We'd gone through everything together: prom, as each other's dates when no one else invited us, carpooling to college together for the first two years I attended, boyfriends, hangovers, jobs, deaths, _everything_. She was the closest person to me and I couldn't help, but love her. She was right- Edward Cullen was a fucking dick.

The six miles I ran that night were _not_ because I was riled up about my new boss' bad attitude.

Not at all.

_**Sunday**_

I woke up that morning already dreading work the next day.

This was worse than the semester I had to take Speech and dreaded going to class every day. I stuttered through the class and had to wear a hoodie each day to hide my sweat stains.

Instead, I sent my brother an email and then ran another six miles.

_**Monday**_

Was it possible to develop asthma at twenty-four? Out of the blue?

I either got asthma overnight or I was having a panic attack at 7:40 in the morning.

According to Ang, I was out of my damn mind if I was having an asthma attack. It felt like my lungs were being gripped in the Hulk's hands, squeezing me from the inside out.

Dressed in my nicest gray shirt and charcoal colored pencil skirt, I debated whether or not to find a brown bag to breath into like people did in movies. I even looked in the break room, but there wasn't any in there, so I started Mr. Cullen's coffee on my way into the office. Mrs. Cope was, no surprise here, not there yet, so I put my purse up and started booting up the computer. The slight hiss of the doors to the office let me know someone was coming in, and I couldn't help but pray that it was Mrs. Cope and not Mr. Cullen.

"...Absolutely unacceptable, find out which accountant made the mistake and fix-" the deep, silky voice said with more venom in his tone than a black mamba.

_God damn it! _

I heard him before I saw him waltz down the hall, his gait long and measured, in a tailored black suit, blue shirt, and black tie, he was gripping his BlackBerry to his ear, eyeing the floor. He barked other things into the receiver as he walked down the hall. Once he was right in front of my desk, and without breaking his stride, he spit out, "Coffee," and swept into his office. He didn't bother looking in my direction or even saying _please_.

The clock on the desk showed that it was only 7:50, ten minutes before I was even scheduled to start my work day. I grumbled out a "Shit head," and headed for the break room to get the rude ass his morning coffee.

Was I asking too much to simply get treated with a little, itty bitty respect? Not even respect, really, but at least get treated like a human being. Any time I ever brought Jasper a coffee he'd thank me profusely, even when I made it wrong. I tried to treat other people with respect; I held doors open, always said thank you, and bless you when appropriate. This dick couldn't even look at me when he needed something. Even with his fancy ass degree from Dartmouth, he couldn't learn any manners.

After preparing his coffee, I hustled back towards his office, shuffling the cup from one hand to the other because it was hot as shit. I could hear Mr. Cullen on the phone as I made my way over. I stood by his door, unsure of whether he wanted me to go in unannounced or not, and considering his apparent moodiness, the last thing I wanted to do was draw his unwanted attention onto me.

His office was large; much larger than my studio apartment, decorated in dark woods and cream colored fabrics. It was nice. Really nice. So nice it made me jealous that my apartment consisted of mixed and not exactly matched furniture I'd collected over the years at garage sales and clearance centers.

Standing there with a hot cup of coffee in my hands, I felt like I was at the zoo, observing an animal in its natural habitat. Sitting in a large black chair behind his desk, I could barely see him to the side of his gigantic iMac screen, which he had settled at an angle on the corner of his desk. With what looked to be a long fingered hand, he pulled at his hair while hissing into the corded office phone. It took him a minute to catch me standing at the doorway, his glassy green eyes looking me over with a blank expression before he waved me in with a simple flick of his fingers.

Mr. Cullen pointed at a coaster sitting on his desk, murmuring an aggravated, "I understand," over and over again into the receiver.

My hands were shaking a little as I walked across his office and set the cup down on the desk. I happened to look over at his face, catching his eyes staring up at the ceiling and his mouth pursed in a scowl. It wasn't really that he intimidated me, but there was something about him that unsettled me. Frustrated me. Something that made me want to avoid him as much as possible. It radiated out of him like a warning. To say that I tailed it out of there would be like saying that Michael Phelps was a decent swimmer. Understatement of the century.

_**Tuesday**_

I was already in the break room the next morning at 7:45 when Mr. Cullen breezed by the door, talking loudly on his cell phone like always. I stirred in the last packet of sugar required, and hot potatoed the mug all the way to his office, making a beeline to his desk when I saw that he had his back to the door, staring out of the large windows that made up the back wall of his office. I practically sashayed my way out from the relief that I got away with leaving his coffee without having to put up with his standoffish ass.

Yesterday, he'd spent the entire day on the phone with one person or another, constantly grumbling and raising hell about what had gone wrong over the weekend. I could hear everything he said from my desk, the man talked on the phone like the person on the other end was deaf, so I knew without a doubt all he did was bitch and complain. It did make me feel a tiny bit better that not once, out of the fifteen conversations he had, was he polite or even remotely tepid with the person on the other line.

Mrs. Cope came in late, but fortunately handled everything that would have required coming into contact with Mr. Cullen. What seemed strange to me was that it seemed she actually liked going in there and dealing with his cold behavior. I didn't get it, but screw it, I was going to take advantage of her eagerness as long as I could. Which was only the next four days, but I'd take it. I managed to avoid being in the same room with him at the same time, thank you sweet baby Joseph.

More than half an hour later, the sweet poof of white hair sauntered through the doors with a flushed face. I'd just started responding to emails when she set her purse down on top of the desk to make her way around.

"Hello, Bella darling. I'm so sorry that I'm late," she said, not bothering to offer up an excuse.

I smiled at her as kindly as I could, because really? How could I blame her for getting to work late? I probably wouldn't even be showing up if I knew I was leaving my position in a few days. "Good morning."

"Should I go prepare Mr. Cullen's coffee?"

"It's already prepared and in his office," I answered.

She smiled brightly, pulling out the chair right next to mine. "Aren't you efficient?" She gushed. "You two are going to get along very well, I can just tell."

I snickered.

_**Thursday**_

I got to work even earlier that day, at 7:40 in the morning, in hopes of having Mr. Cullen's coffee sitting on his desk before he even made it into the office. I managed to avoid seeing him the rest of the day Tuesday since he stayed holed up in his office the entire day, and was out of the office yesterday. I knew that I needed to get over his attitude, but I couldn't. I just _couldn't_. This man was my boss. It was just going to be us two on the floor in two full business days. I wasn't going to have little Mrs. Cope to run back and forth between us all day.

The asshole didn't even know my name yet either, which didn't escape me for a second. It probably bothered me more than it should have that he wasn't pleasant towards me or even made an effort to ask what my freaking name was. At least Angela's boss _tried_. Sure she called Angela different names, Abby and Amy for the first two months, but at least she was close.

I could already imagine him snapping his fingers to get my attention since he didn't know what to call me. _Ugh_.

I set the coffee mug on his desk around 7:50, two minutes before he waltzed in and headed straight into his office. He wasn't on the phone for once, but he still didn't spare me a second glance.

Less than a minute after he'd walked into his office, he was clearing his throat much too loudly. "I need another coffee. This one isn't hot enough," he instructed.

I wanted to cry as I stood up and headed into his office, walking straight in the direction of his desk. Keeping my eyes down, I grabbed the mug and spun on my heel to leave again. When I was barely a foot away from the door, he piped up, "Don't microwave it either, just make it all over again."

I mouthed to myself, "Fucking asshole."

_**Friday**_

I wanted to cry.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon and Mrs. Cope was collecting the last of her things to leave. Early. Two full hours before the end of the day. In retrospect, I should be happy that she even showed up the entire week. Sure, she'd spent ninety-five percent of her time looking through mail-in catalogues and talking on the phone, but she'd run interference between me and Mr. Cullen. Now... I was going to be on my own and I was scared shit less.

This was degrading, honestly. There weren't many things I was scared of. Sure I slept with a night light on, refused to go to the circus so that I wouldn't see clowns, and avoided standing on anything higher than a chair because it made me nervous, but to be worried about some man? Some man that was probably only a few years older than me? It made me feel weak and pathetic. Then I heard him bellowing something into the phone and then I reminded myself why I was justified into disliking and worrying about this man.

"Good luck, sweet Bella," Mrs. Cope said, pulling me into a hug.

I squeezed her back, trying to steady the shaking in my hands. I noticed how she didn't mention anything about being able to call her if I had any questions, or even bother to give me any reassurances about being successful. It made me feel alone and overwhelmed. The old bitty slipped into Mr. Cullen's office while I wrote back a few emails, and within a handful of minutes she was laughing softly, making her way out with Mr. Cullen right behind her.

It looked silly: his tall, youthful frame right up against Mrs. Cope's much smaller build. His dark hair against her lighter, snow white hair. He was talking softly so that only she could hear, stopping to put an arm on her frail shoulder. Mrs. Cope squeezed his hand before waving at me and then leaving.

The silence was eerie. Like the calm before the storm.

Mr. Cullen turned to me, slowly, so slowly I almost lost my patience and turned away before his green eyes caught mine. His expression was blank and disinterested like usual. I saw his nostrils flare before he pursed his lips and spun on his heel to head back into his office, flicking his fingers in my direction. "Come," he ordered.

_Come? Like a dog?_ I ground my teeth together, pulse racing in an instant from how pissed off I'd become in no time. I took a deep breath, steadying the rapid beat of my heart and followed after him, distracting myself with ideas of what I could do to him out of revenge. Spit in his coffee? Knowing his anal ass, he'd probably taste the difference. By the time I made it in, he was sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair with his fingers laced and resting on his stomach, over the navy material of his suit.

"Sit down, Isabella," he ordered again. I wasn't sure whether to be shocked that he actually knew my name or to be annoyed with his tone of voice. I'm pretty sure I grunted to myself at his command. He really was talking to me like I was a damn dog, but I, like a pathetic ass, sat down in the chair opposite of his. Making sure to cross my legs at the ankles, like Angela recommended, I steeled my back in preparation for his words.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I asked him in the most even voice I could muster. Sure I didn't like the mother fucker, but I'd be damned if I didn't at least _try_ to be nice.

His light colored eyes narrowed in my direction. "I want to go over my expectations with you," he began. "I hope you've enjoyed these last two weeks because starting Monday, this routine you've picked up from Mrs. Cope will no longer be followed. I need an assistant, Isabella, not a secretary." His fingers tented over his stomach, before he sat up a little in his expensive, leather chair. "I've been explained that you were made aware of the job requirements when you signed up for the position, so this shouldn't come as a surprise to you."

Mr. Cullen leaned forward to place his arms on his desk and smirked. "Get ready to work."

I think it was in that moment that I fully realized just how fucked I really was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys! So sorry I've been sucking at posting chapters like I'd been hoping to, but here are two posts for the day! Yay? :) Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it a ton! My mistakes are my own. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own two psycho dogs that like to lick each other's buttholes. Yep.**

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><p><strong>Monday<strong>

Despite having an amazing weekend full of doing a whole lot of nothing, I couldn't help but carry around the dread of starting Monday off. It was almost like a fortune teller had told me I'd die after the weekend, and every minute spent was a minute that led me closer to my doom. I'd like to blame Mr. Cullen for not only being a stringent asshole, but an intimidating one, as well. There was something about the smile on his face when he told that I was pretty much going to become his slave come Monday, that instilled a fear in me more terrifying than my fear of heights.

What the hell was going on?

I knew, like he reminded me, that I was warned about long hours when I agreed to become the CFO's secretary. I _knew_ this and yet, I wanted to blame him for making me believe for two weeks that everything I'd learned was normal. Couldn't he have given me a hint? Obviously, the man didn't know how to give me anything to begin with, so how could I expect a hint? I really wanted to find out why things were changing all of a sudden, why Mrs. Cope's duties were so lax, and why the hell was Mr. Cullen was such a dick.

I figured I could probably find out the first two, but the last was a lost cause.

I showed up to work on Monday with shaky hands, work pants that were a little too snug, and a cardigan to hide any potentially embarrassing sweat stains. Angela called me at the crack ass of dawn to wish me luck while she bought her boss' morning coffee. I kept repeating to myself on the way up the elevator that I was fine and that as long as I did a good job, I didn't have anything to worry about. I mean, I wasn't scared of working a lot- I was scared of failing. How hard could it be?

By the time, the elevator stopped off on my floor, I'd managed to get my trembling hands under control a little better. I turned on the coffee maker in the break room, before going to drop off my purse, turn on my computer, and make my way back to start on Mr. Cullen's coffee. The clock over the small table showed that it was 7:50, which was right around the time...

"Yes. Yes. I love you too-" Mr. Cullen's voice carried down the hall, reaching me even over the noise of the coffee machine.

I stood there, sifting sugar into his favorite cup, while my brain urged me to keep my eyes on the door to watch him pass by. A blur of navy quickly passed by, leaving a trail of words behind him. I couldn't help but frown at what I'd heard. One of the first things I'd done was check out his hand to see if he was married, but he wasn't. Unless, he didn't wear a ring, but then again, if he was half as much of an asshole as he was at work, who would be dumb enough to date him, let alone marry him?

_Lauren_, ha.

My brother had written me an email on Friday, urging me to have patience and to remember that my boss wasn't a complete dick. He was the only person that knew Mr. Cullen had been the man to help me jump-start my car a year ago. So, yeah, somewhere underneath his suits and ties, the man had to have a heart. I just needed to be patient and understanding with him, and hopefully someday he'd come around.

Slipping into his office a few minutes later, I found him sitting at his desk, looking at something on his huge screen. He didn't bother glancing in my direction as I walked in and sighed out, "Good morning."

He ticked his head in a curt nod and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Seriously? He couldn't even respond to me? I bit down hard on my back teeth, settled the mug on his coaster, and then turned to walk back out of his office, my fingers clenched into a fist of frustration. My black flat was stepping over the imaginary line that separated his office from my work area, when he cleared his throat. "Isabella, grab a notebook and come back in. We have a lot to go over."

"Yes sir," I responded, wincing a millisecond after I realized what I said. _Sir? _Ugh. I felt disgusted with myself for being so timid. Yes, he was my boss and I needed to be polite and respectful towards him, regardless of whether he deserved it or not, but calling him sir was completely un-fucking necessary. The son of a bitch needed to be glad I called him Mr. Cullen instead of Asshole.

Well, okay, I couldn't call him an asshole to his face because I'd get fired and really needed the money, but still. I could call him an asshole after work hours, right?

Grabbing the notebook I'd been using while taking down all of three pages of notes from what Mrs. Cope had showed me, I headed back into the office and stood awkwardly by the chair across from Mr. Cullen, who was indeed wearing a navy suit, grey shirt, and matching navy tie. He was still staring at his computer screen, completely ignoring my presence while I clutched the legal pad to my chest. A memory of last week when he'd ordered me around like a dog filtered through my brain and it was impossible to not feel that way again while I stood there, waiting for his offer to let me sit. I knew damn well that while Jasper didn't need to offer me a seat when I came in to chat with him, not all managers were like that. Especially if they had a God-complex or control issues. Something told me figuring out which of the two cases it was for Mr. Cullen would be damn-near impossible. Both, with my luck.

"Sit," he finally said in a low voice.

Emerald green eyes shifted from the screen to my face as he rolled his chair to the side before sipping his coffee. I bit my lip and sat on the chair I'd been standing by, crossing my legs at the ankle again even though I was wearing pants. It was impossible not to notice the smooth angle of his jaw while he drank from his mug. As soon as he started moving the coffee away from his mouth, I darted my eyes to the side to look at the Dartmouth bachelor's degree that hung from the wall.

"If you're done looking at my things, we can begin. Yes?"

I blinked, still looking at the diploma.

The breath of air that filled my lungs felt thicker and colder than normal. I blinked again, trying to determine whether or not those words had actually come out of his mouth or if I was just imagining it. When I dragged my eyes over to look at his lightly tanned complexion, his lips were pursed together in a look of annoyance. My ears and face got hot all of a sudden, waves of embarrassment overtaking my skin at being called out by my boss for looking at his things. I wanted to ask him why he hung his personals in his office, if he didn't want anyone to see them, but I held my words instead. That wasn't polite.

Nodding, I couldn't trust myself to say anything more than, "Yes," in response.

His eyes widened for a split second before he sighed loudly and faced his computer again. "I'm going to need you to-"

Needless to say, my hand got tired from all the things that Mr. Cullen was going to need me to. I almost started doubting myself for a moment, before pressing my pen down into the legal pad even harder and continuing my notes.


	6. Chapter 6

**I want to go ahead and get to the fun stuff *sigh* We're getting there, guys! Just give me some time! Also- I've been sucking at responding to reviews, but I promise I read and love them all and will get to them soon. xoxo**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight, just this asshole version of Edward.**

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><p><strong>Tuesday<strong>

"Isabella!"

At the rate I was going, I was going to need crowns over my molars in no time from all the teeth grinding I was doing. I was really trying not to let him get to me, not to let his words and voice get the best of me, but that would be like asking the world not to turn. Impossible. I wanted to think that if he _asked _me for things instead of demanding them, I'd handle his never ending demands a lot better. I'd been sitting at my desk, trying to get in contact with the general managers from five of the least successful stores in our region when Mr. Cullen's voice bellowed out from his office.

I'd like to say him calling out for me was like a siren's song or I don't know, at something pleasant at least, but he had such a sharp bite to his tone every time, it seemed more like death calling my name. Death in a light grey suit, white shirt, and a black tie. Pushing my chair back, I slipped my feet into my kitten heels and marched into his office, forcing a one-cheek smile in his direction. "Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

He was hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously on God knows what and sighing obnoxiously loud out his nose, just like a dragon. "I need you to redo this."

"Redo what?" I asked and at the first sign of a stiffening shoulder, I added, "Sir," to the end. Power trip. This man was on a complete fucking power trip every minute of his life.

The day before, I'd sat in his office for well over an hour while he went over the long list of duties he wanted me to take over. It was a lot. Emails. Calls. Responding to emails. Creating powerpoint presentations. Adjusting Excel sheets. It was enough to make me wonder if I was going to be able to have a life outside of work. It didn't help that he stated that these were my normal duties, not including special things he'd need help with on a day to day basis.

To say that I longed for Mrs. Cope would be an understatement.

I wanted to kill the old bitch.

What the hell had she been doing? The idea that she had been getting paid the same if not more than I was, while doing nothing, ate away my skin like battery acid. If anything, it made me more determined to figure out how the hell she got away with her simple tasks for so long, but I couldn't start my snooping yet. Mr. Cullen's workload barely gave me any time to eat my lunch, at my desk, and then leave close to six-thirty, ten minutes after the asshole had paraded his navy ass out of the office with a sharp, "Rushing leads to mistakes."

Fucking asshole.

I wished he'd go to jail and have some fellow prisoner rush his asshole for good measure.

"The quarterly newsletter is all wrong and I need you to fix it," the deep voice snapped me out of my reminiscing.

He held papers in the air for me to grab, and I took them lightly, looking over the sharp red marks that crisscrossed the page. It looked like he had rewritten the front article completely in the small margins on the side. Our quarterly newsletter was passed out to the entire building and in each of the supermarkets for employees to look over. To be honest, I'd never given half a crap about the newsletter so I never paid it any attention.

"How do you want me to fix it?" I asked him, in a timid voice that was laced with panic. I knew that this wasn't anything I could do on any Microsoft program, and I wasn't familiar with Photoshop or hardly any of the Adobe software.

Mr. Cullen rolled his eyes while straightening his dark tie. "I sent you the file, fix it and send it to the mail room for printing by four."

His words were pretty much Chinese in my ears. How the fuck was I supposed to fix it?

I must have stood there for too long, holding the white sheets to me, because he gave me an annoyed sigh. "I don't understand what the problem is."

"I don't know how to change this, Mr. Cullen. I'm only familiar with certain types of software and..."

"Isabella, if _I_ knew how to do it I would do it myself because if that was the case, it would be done by now, but all you're doing now is wasting your time as well as mine. I don't care if you know how to fix it or not, but you will, okay?"

I bit my lip and nodded stiffly before walking out with the newsletter in my hand. After checking my email and seeing Edward Cullen's name in my inbox, I clicked on the attachment, hoping to God it would open. If it didn't open, I was in a world of trouble because that would only mean that the computer wasn't loaded with the software I'd need to fix the newsletter. Fortunately, the attachment opened up with a program called inDesign and after about ten different youtube videos worth of tutorial later, I'd fixed the damned paragraph and walked the revised newsletter down to the mailroom so that they could print out the correct version.

The elevator doors had just opened when a woman with ashen blonde hair stepped in, scowling in my direction. She was pretty in a icy kind of way, with sharp cheekbones, a small, dainty nose that could have been fake, and clothing that didn't resemble anything an employee at MSM would wear.

"What the hell are you looking at?" She spat, turning to look at me while I walked out.

"The ketchup stain on your jacket?" I offered her, pointing at the blatant red stain that dotted the sleeve of her white peacoat.

I was walking backward out of the elevator, as the doors closed and the blonde woman looked down at her stained jacket like she had shit smeared on her face. I wondered what she'd been doing on our floor, it was only Edward's office on it and no one had come by to visit besides the the cleaning crew yet. When I was rounding the corner to my desk, I found Mr. Cullen's office door closed for the first time ever. It only added to my wonder regarding the pissed off woman who had just left.

In the short amount of time I'd worked for him, I'd only heard him talk to someone personal twice and each time seemed to be a conversation with his mom, the rest of the time was strictly business. The blinking red light on my phone distracted me, reminding me of the five GMs I needed to call before the asshole in the office came barging out, asking me when his meetings had been set up.


	7. Chapter 7

**GAH! Another update in less than a week! Hell as frozen over. Let's all thank my lovely friend, ordinary_vamp (I know you go by a different name on here but I cannot for the life of me remember the entire thing- I'm sorry) for sending me very *cough* inspiring... things. I have learned many things from these... pictures. ha. Anyway, thank you all for your support. I did try to write everyone back who reviewed, so if I missed you, forgive me. You are loved, I swear. My mistakes are my own. I'm really trying to get us to the good stuff, but I can't rush it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own... Jerkward? **

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><p><strong>Thursday<strong>

I was debating whether or not to start looking up the symptoms of carpal tunnel. The last two days had been absolutely hectic. Mr. Cullen had given me so many things to do- reports to prepare with quarterly results, a new and in depth powerpoint presentation with the most complicated pie charts in history, and an Access spreadsheet detailing five different stores results, was just the tip of the iceberg. I spent so much time down at accounting that the manager joked about getting me a desk, because Mr. Cullen needed some type of reports asap.

Apparently, from what I understood, or in actuality, from what I'd caught onto eavesdropping on his conversations, he was worried about a few of the stores being on the verge of not turning a profit. The last year had been really hard for two of the stores, being that they were situated in areas with a lower-income demographic. From what I'd caught on, Mr. Cullen was hoping to figure out a way to help the stores succeed and avoid closing them down. Being that he was the CFO, and that I really had no idea what exactly he _really_ was in charge of besides major decisions, I was a little in awe in regards to his determined effort to keep his employees working.

Five minutes later, he was bellowing, "Isabella! We're going to be here until seven tonight!"

I hated his guts all over again.

It wasn't that I had anything to do, really. I liked to go to the gym and swim most nights. My parents lived 3 hours away, and my brother was currently in the Middle East, so I couldn't see them. The only friend I kept in contact with regularly was Angela, and she worked for a demanding boss who took up most of her time as well, so it wasn't like I saw her everyday either. It was just... different, knowing that I _couldn't_ do things, instead of not wanting to do things. The only benefit of long work hours, was that by the end of the day I was so mentally exhausted, I passed out with no problems. I didn't even dream.

My stomach grumbled ferociously, sounding like one of the lions I'd seen at the circus as a child, and I realized that I'd worked straight through my normal lunch again. Mr. Cullen hadn't come out of his office either, which would have been a sign for me earlier, that I should go eat something. The churning noise filled the small area of my desk, and I groaned, spying the clock on the wall that read 2:30 in digital block lettering.

I knew I needed to eat something, my immune system had always been pretty crappy, so I had to go the extra mile eating well to keep it up. I could only imagine having to call Mr. Cullen one day to tell him I was sick. He'd probably tell me to work from home.

My brothers words crawled through my brain again, reminding me to try and be patient with him, but it was hard. I'd never worked with a person before who genuinely had no interest in getting to know me, or at least _try _ to be friendly with me. It wasn't that I thought he really had a problem with me, in general, because he seemed to be distant and short with everyone. Especially me. I blamed it on his power trip; he knew he was my boss and knew what he could get away with, so he did. He pushed my buttons constantly, knowing I wouldn't react. Well, not that I wouldn't, but that I couldn't.

"Isabella!" Mr. Cullen's deep voice called out from his office.

I grumbled, standing up with a sigh, and walked over to his door. He was sitting at his desk, peering at something on his computer screen with great interest. I noticed he had taken off his charcoal jacket, leaving him in a matching fitted vest and pants, and a white shirt with black tie. His hair was a mess of angles going in different directions, face flushed in what I could only assume was frustration. I didn't want to admit it, but the son of a bitch was a good looking guy. A very good looking guy. But that crappy personality and lack of manners, ruined him.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I asked him, not wanting to stand in his doorway forever, waiting for him to respond.

He turned to look at me slowly, raising an eyebrow at my exasperated tone. I felt for a split second like he could read my mind, or at least hear the challenge in my head. "I need you to hurry up and finish that powerpoint presentation, so that I have time to become familiar with it before the meeting tomorrow," he snapped.

I bit my lip and withheld the eye roll begging to be set free. "I sent you the presentation an hour ago."

Green eyes narrowed in my direction, disbelieving. "Did you?"

I nodded, but couldn't help and widen my eyes in frustration. This asshole was pretty much calling me a liar. I hated liars. "Yes, sir." Damn it, I really was trying to avoid calling him sir. I'd have to look into wearing a rubber band to snap against my wrist each time I called him that, to try and break the habit. Angela had done that in the past to get her cursing under control, and it'd worked.

"Well, then-" the same noise that had erupted from my stomach five minutes before, filled the office. I looked down, expecting it to be my belly doing it, but it wasn't.

The snort that slipped out of me was completely unintentional when I realized it had been Mr. Cullen's stomach grumbling out of what I could only assume to be hunger. Looking up at him, the top of his cheeks were splashed in light pink as the noise continued for a couple more seconds. I don't know how I didn't laugh, but thankfully, I managed to stay under control.

Mr. Cullen brought up a long-fingered hand, to pull at his mess of hair, before he sighed a little too loudly. "That will be all, for now," he coughed out.

I smirked, appreciating his blush, before nodding and walking back out. Once I was seated at my desk again, I snorted, remembering the look on his face when his stomach grumbled loudly enough to stop our conversation. I had to keep that in mind for the future, in case he was getting on my nerves.

Oh, who was I kidding? It was only a matter of minutes before he did or said something to get on my nerves again.

It was when I stood up fifteen minutes later, and felt a little light headed that I realized I needed to eat _something_. Legally, I was supposed to have a lunch break and at least one fifteen-minute long break a day, and I hadn't taken any time for myself yet. I hurried over to the break room, to eat at least part of my lunch so I could survive until I got home later. Tearing off the lid to the container that held my sandwich, potato salad, and sliced fruit, I ate as quickly as I could, hoping not to get caught by Mr. Cullen.

Then, out of nowhere, with a mouthful of roast beef sandwich, I felt terrible. Guilty.

And I kind of hated myself for it.

I knew Mr. Cullen was hungry. His stomach had told both of us, so. I knew he usually went out for lunch, so he for sure, did not have anything to eat. He could've easily have _demanded_ that I go get him lunch from somewhere, but he didn't. I took another bite of my sandwich and groaned, not enjoying my food as much.

Sometimes, I really fucking hated having a conscience.

Pushing the chair back, I grabbed one of the plastic forks from a drawer and cut the uneaten half of my sandwich off. I'd scarfed down the fruit, but not the potato salad. I sighed, finished the little bit of sandwich and fruit, and then closed the container. Carrying it in my hands, I felt nervous for some reason, as I made my way over to Mr. Cullen's office.

It's not that I wanted to go out of my way and be nice to a man that hadn't exactly been nice to me, but I couldn't help but feel guilty. My parents had raised me better than that. As much as I would've liked for him to suffer, I couldn't be that greedy. Even though, I would've liked to. Trust me.

He was sitting behind his desk, typing away rather quickly on his keyboard for a few moments before he stopped, and turned his attention towards me. "Can I help you?"

I swallowed and nodded, taking a step into his office, holding the container out in front of me. "If you like roast beef and potato salad, you can have the other half of my lunch."

Those emerald green eyes narrowed in my direction the closer I got. He eyed the clear container and then my face warily, but held up his hands to take it from me as soon as I was within reaching distance. He nodded, more to himself than me, and pulled off the red top, inspecting the food almost carefully. "You didn't spit in this?"

I probably should have been insulted that he would think that I would do something like that, but really, I probably would have. So I let out a short bark of a laugh, completely unladylike, and shook my head. I swear his right cheek came up a fraction of an inch, almost in amusement, but it went back down just as quickly. "No, I didn't. I promise."

He licked his dark pink lips and nodded, looking down at the food. Mr. Cullen cleared his throat, looking at me from below long, light colored eyelashes. "Thank you," he murmured so low, I _almost_ didn't hear it.

I coughed and immediately looked away from me, taking a step back to hightail it out of there. "No problem."

Not two minutes had passed between leaving my food and taking a seat at my desk, when Mr. Cullen was yelling. "Isabella! I need a bottle of water!"

My back teeth started grinding again on their own. I gave the man lunch and absolutely nothing had changed. Not that I should have expected it to.


	8. Chapter 8

_**HELLO!** Thank you all for your wonderful support of TD! I love all of your reviews more than words and appreciate it, greatly. _

_Just a quick thing for **ILMN readers**: Well, two things: One) I will be posting an outtake for Christmas next week and MOST IMPORTANTLY: I'm taking ILMN down on December 30th. If you know anyone interested in reading it, please tell them to do so asap! _

**_New Story Alert_: **_I'm collaborating on a new story with the wonderful, LucyLiterate, called _Glimmer of Green_, it's a Bikeward which equals awesomeness. Please keep an eye out for that shortly, or add me to your author alert or twitter, if you're like me and forget things ;) _

_**Okay, I'm done. My mistakes are my own. Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own Twilight, but I do own... Jerkward?**_

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><p><em><strong>Friday<strong>_

One day, years before, Angela and I decided to make a list of the sentences that would, quite literally, make us crap our pants. My list was simple:

1) "You're _ months along in your pregnancy."

2) "You have _ months left to live."

3) "Glee has been cancelled."

4) "Dunkin Donuts no longer makes French Vanilla coffee grounds."

5) "It's not you, it's me."

Besides this small list, I really didn't feel like hardly anything could really ruffle my feathers too much. That is, until Friday afternoon, when I had just sat back down at my desk after lunch, and Mr. Cullen passed by on the way back to his desk. As always, he didn't bother looking up from whatever trivial thing had his attention on his BlackBerry, but his words... they stung me like a snake's venom. "Isabella, I'm going to need you to sit in the meeting with me and take notes."

What my brain processed was, "Isabella, you're going to have to sit through a boring ass meeting on no caffeine." Which in reality meant, "Isabella, you're going to fall asleep in the meeting. With your boss. And managers." So, in three words, "Isabella, you're screwed."

I think I whimpered in response, more to myself than Mr. Cullen because he was already back in his office. Looking at the desk calendar below me, I spied that his meeting started in twenty minutes. If I hurried, I could make some coffee, down it in less than 30 seconds, and make it to the conference room in time. I had already set up the projector before lunch and facilities had been called to provide refreshments for the meeting. Old Bitch Cope hadn't left me with too much knowledge on what the necessary practice for setting up meetings was, but I knew we needed my powerpoint presentation and I figured drinks were also necessary. Luckily, Jasper had requested that I call facilities a few times in the past for things like that, so I knew what to do.

After hustling out of the office, turning off the coffee machine, and then gulping down bitter, black coffee like a dehydrated woman, I took myself and my scalded tongue back to the office. Mr. Cullen was standing at his doorway, only sparing me a quick glance before returning those dark green eyes to his BlackBerry. "Let's get going, Isabella. I hate tardiness."

"So do I, Mr. Cullen," I whispered to myself, too quietly for him to hear. Grabbing the flashdrive that held the presentation as well as a few other files he requested, a legal pad, and a pen, I followed my boss out of our office and towards the elevator. We waiting less than a minute before the elevator doors were opening, inviting us in, and then closing to take us up one more floor to where the two main conference rooms for executives were located. I walked just to the right of Mr. Cullen, who had managed to stash his phone into the pocket of his black dress pants.

Pushing open the door to conference room A, I noticed that while he didn't exactly hold the door open for me, he wasn't a complete ass and let it close behind him. Instead, he held it open until he saw me reach for the door, and then he let go. I couldn't help but wonder how chivalry was practically dead. Tucking in my white sweater into my pants a little better, I woke the projector, attached the flashdrive to the laptop, and then looked around to make sure everything was fine. Fortunately, there were sodas, water bottles, and two carafes of coffee sitting on a table pushed against the far wall.

I caught Mr. Cullen's eyes looking around the room as well, his eyes resting on the table of drinks a little longer than I figured was really needed. He turned his attention back to me, and I couldn't help but notice how full his lips were when they were pursed together. "I would like for you to prepare me a cup of coffee," he stated, sitting at the chair at the head of the table, which was _right_ in front of the table that had the drinks. He easily could have turned around and done it himself, but I freaking guessed that's what I got paid for.

Asshole.

My teeth ground together.

But I walked around and prepared his coffee, while a man, in his late thirties with dark, raven colored hair, stepped into the conference room, wringing his hands. He spoke to Mr. Cullen while I got his coffee ready, and then took a seat just to the right of him. A moment later, two more men were trickling in, they were older than the first, maybe in their late forties. The men shook hands with my dip shit of a boss, who called them by their first names and then planted themselves on the chairs just to the right of the first man.

We still have about ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled, and I knew that two of the managers were still missing. I set the coffee cup just to the left of Mr. Cullen, who didn't bother to spare a glance my way, but I did catch the first manager who had walked in, looking at me very intently before he cracked a smile. I gave him a little smile in return and sat down in a chair, in the corner of the room, just to the side of the refreshment table. It wasn't that I was trying to be nosey, but I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. I mean, who wouldn't? Right? Luckily, I was stealthy enough to open up my legal pad and pretend to read the blank page carefully.

It's not like they knew the page was blank.

After some babbling about stocks and the rising prices of produce because of the drought in Texas, I heard one of the men say, "I'm surprised that you were finally able to get another assistant, Mr. Cullen."

The keyword I chose to catch onto was _finally_.

Mr. Cullen, whose deep timber I easily recognized from the many times I had to listen to him both clear his throat in exasperation, and bellow commands at me like I was a german shepherd in the policy academy, let out a little grunt. "Shelley decided that she wanted to stay home with her husband and I was all too willing to oblige."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the fact that he used the word oblige so carefully. He sounded like a pompous, old fart.

I heard a few low chuckles from the table, and it was incredibly hard not to look up and see who exactly was laughing, but I managed it. My mind was trying to absorb what was said. It would seem that for some reason, the men were surprised that Mr. Cullen had a new assistant _finally_ and that Asshole was eager to get one. I mean, I wouldn't blame him for wanting to get a new assistant since Mrs. Cope was practically useless, but I couldn't help but wonder how she'd managed to keep her job if she wasn't wanted or better yet, qualified. Not that I thought I was the most qualified person in the world, but I don't think I was being too shabby. Compared to Mrs. Cope, I'd say I was pretty much a professional.

Unfortunately, two more men walked in at that moment, ceasing the conversation regarding kicking Mrs. Cope to the curb. The two newest men in the room were in their late thirties or forties, and they greeted the entire room; one of them even introduced themselves to me, which I thought was really nice. The presentation started a minute later when the lights in the room were dimmed and Mr. Cullen started the powerpoint I'd been killing myself making over the course of the week.

Despite having guzzled down a cup of coffee, there was something about the dark room, the cold air conditioning, and my warm sweater that made my eyelids feel really heavy. Cullen went about each slide, presenting the information like _he'd_ done the entire thing, until an hour later, he was done and was now holding a discussion with the five store managers from across the Florida region. Figuring that there was a reason why he wanted me to take notes, I started writing down the topics they covered and what points they brought up for each.

The goal was to improve each store's results in the next quarter. No one wanted a store to get shut down if the economy started to plummet more. By figuring out what could be done, they hoped that the cushioning would allow them to survive in the long run. I was so busy looking down at my legal pad and jotting down notes, that I missed Mr. Cullen calling my name.

I looked up to see all six men staring at me and I couldn't help but frown. "I'm sorry, what did you ask?"

"Did you do any research on the succeeding supermarkets in their areas?" he asked me.

My eyebrows went straight up to my hairline. While, he had never suggested or recommended that I look up what other chains were doing well in the areas that MSM's were failing, I did it anyways for curiosity while I was doing the presentation and uploading comparisons. "I, umm..." my voice stuttered like a traitorous bastard. I knew that he was putting me on the spot, whether he was doing it to be vicious or simply to get my input, I wasn't sure but based on the typical annoyed twitch of his lips, I figured he was probably trying to embarrass me. "I did actually. I found that the leading supermarkets were doing different types of promotions in their areas-"

"We promote," one of the men interjected.

I glanced at Mr. Cullen for reassurance but his face was pulled back passively. "I know, but some of your stores are relying on newspaper ads while the newspaper sales are quickly dwindling. I found that the competition are sending ads in the mail directly to homeowners and residents, they're also doing radio promotions."

Another manager jumped in as soon as I was done with his ideas on how to continue promoting sales at the stores without spending more than was already budgeted. An hour later, I was turning off the projector and gathering my things, while Mr. Cullen finished saying goodbye to the managers. He was still talking to one of the men when I was done, and since I didn't want to be rude, I grabbed my things and slipped out of the conference room to head back to our floor.

The walk back was quiet, giving me some time to relax from the stress I'd been under since this was my first meeting I had to attend. Sure, there had been meetings in the past with Jasper but it was completely different. Jasper never called me out in front of everyone.

I was stowing my flashdrive and logging onto my computer when the Asshole walked in, hands pushed deep into his pockets. Not bothering to look up, I kept my attention fixed on the computer screen, but noticed that he didn't keep walking past my desk like every other time. After a minute of awkward silence, I finally turned to look at him. He stood on the other side of my desk and I caught his eyes on the picture of my parents I had propped up against the corner.

"Can I... help you?" Sure it sounded like I was working fast food, but him standing there, was just... weird. The man made a constant effort to keep me at arms length, what more could he expect?

He quirked a penny colored eyebrow in my direction. "I just wanted to tell you that did well in the meeting."

Umm... _excuse me?_

I didn't know how to respond besides side-eyeing the wall and my computer screen. "Thank you," I mumbled out, waiting for the moment in which he would criticize some aspect of my work.

There was silence in return.

Until I heard him clear his throat again. "Next time, I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste time by staring at blank pages in your notebook though, Isabella."

And, bam.

How the hell did he know? It was then that I remembered him watching me unwrap a new packet of legal pads earlier in the week, and stashing them in my desk.

"You can make up the time by staying ten minutes later tonight. Send me your notes from the meeting ASAP."

I decided one thing in that moment. At some point, maybe not in a day, or a week, or even a month, I would make Mr. Cullen pay for being an asshole because it was genuinely fair. I held back tears from my eyes, both because I was humiliated that he caught me, but also because it just seemed so unfair. It was Friday! And how much _nothing_ did Mrs. Cope do while she worked for him? I didn't trust myself to look him in the face, but simply, settled for nodding while my eyes stayed on the dark wood of my desk.

There were a lot of things I couldn't do to him, but I'd be damned if I couldn't find something to retaliate with, without getting caught.

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><p><strong><strong>For more info on my new story, ILMN outtakes and other <em>fun<em> things regarding it, or just my random babbling about dogs and stuff in general.****

**You can visit me on twitter here: **http : / www . twitter . com / marianazapata_

**Or blogspot me here: **http : / marianazapatawrites . blogspot . com


	9. Chapter 9

**_Hi everyone. I'm so tired and I just want to go to bed, but I hope you enjoy the update. My mistakes are my own. Merry Christmas! [to everyone who celebrates it and for those who don't- Happy Holidays!]_**

**_Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight, but I do own a comfortable bed I'm yawning for._**

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><p><em><strong>Monday<strong>_

I got to work early on Monday morning as usual, it was twenty minutes to eight, and I had enough time to make coffee for both Mr. Cullen and myself. As soon as I opened the door to our office area I heard someone, specifically a female, screaming at the top of her lungs, "You're an asshole, Edward Cullen! How stupid do you think I am?"

What followed was screaming that resembled a thousand banshees crying in unison. I couldn't understand what she was screaming anymore, it just sounded like rabid wails. I didn't hear Mr. Cullen's voice over the female's screeching either, but I really doubted that a blow horn could be heard over the lady's screeching.

I wasn't sure what to do. Part of me thought that I should stay in the break room and pretend like I didn't hear anything, and the other part of me, the nosey half, wanted to strut to my desk to eavesdrop and pretend like nothing out of the usual was going on. I was entitled to that, wasn't I? I mean, I worked there.

It was when I heard something loud thud and then seconds later glass began shattering that I groaned. _What the hell had I gotten myself into?_ It was one thing to work for an asshole, but I had to work with an asshole with a psychotic girlfriend? I beelined for the break room, dropped my purse and lunch on the table, and then steeled myself for whatever I was about to face. The half of me that disliked Mr. Cullen told me that I had no business getting into his mess. But the other half of me, the part of me that my parents raised to be a good person, knew that I needed to help him if he needed it.

If he died, I'd be out of a job, right?

The screaming got louder the closer I got. I realized that she actually wasn't screaming anything intelligible. It was just loud gusts of air that were being expelled from her lungs. Still, I couldn't hear Mr. Cullen at all and I was a little nervous that she'd hurt him already. As soon as I rounded the corner of the office, I peeked my head around the wall to look in the direction where his office was. The door was wide open, and I couldn't see any bodies or blood but there was debris on the floor.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you, Edward!" she yelled.

I know my eyes widened at her words, even if there was no one there to see my facial expression. A million thoughts ran through my head while I tried to figure out what he'd done to piss off someone that much. I'd had people do really crappy things to me in the past: an ex-boyfriend cheated on me, I'd gotten t-boned in an accident, and had someone ram me in the ankles with their shopping cart. But none of that would have ever caused me to lose my freaking mind like this lady had.

"Kate," Mr. Cullen finally spoke.

"Shut the fuck up!" Kate, I could only assume, screamed in response.

"That's enough," he warned. His voice was too calm and collected. He used the same voice on her that he did when he told me to make him copies.

His words were a time bomb for the raging woman in the office. She started wailing again, the sound of things breaking filled ever nook and cranny in his office and my desk area. Mr. Cullen didn't say anything for those long moments, until all of a sudden, everything just _stopped_. There were no muffled screams, no shattering glass, _nothing_.

"Enough," his deep voice repeated.

I don't know what I was thinking when I finally stopped hiding and walked into his office. I stood in the doorway, taking in the broken glass scattered around the entire floor. It looked like a glass factory had exploded in there and it was hard to figure out where the hell all of it had come from. I didn't think he had that much glass in his office, but it was when I looked up to see that pretty much every frame he'd had up on his walls was missing. His diplomas, his artwork, all of it was missing. Now, I know it wasn't technically missing, but it was gone, probably tossed about the room under pieces of glass.

"Isabella," Mr. Cullen said softly.

My eyes snapped to look for him, finding him standing in the corner of his office with a blonde woman tucked underneath his chin. He had two arms wrapped firmly around her but what was really strange, was that his face just held this impassive, uninterested look. He didn't look annoyed, angered, worried, happy, or defeated. He just looked like I imagined white rice would: bland. I remember once that my brother broke one of my photo frames when he'd use me for wrestling practice. Even though I loved the frame he'd broken, I loved my brother more, but it didn't stop me from calling him an idiot.

I tore myself out of my thoughts and looked around the room again, where there was more glass and multicolored matting decorating the rich carpet. I lost all of my words looking around the room, seeing the destruction that had taken place in just a matter of minutes. I didn't know what to do, what to say, or what not to say; the wringing of my hands subconsciously was a sign of how nervous I was about the entire situation.

"Do you, umm..." I gestured with a nod of my head in his direction. "Want me to call security?"

He stared at me. Those green eyes that reminded me of the needles of a Christmas tree stared at me, unblinking. "Absolutely not," he responded.

I didn't blame him for not wanting to call security. I could only imagine how it would look if the CFO of our company had some nutcase in his office early in the morning, wreaking havoc on everything in sight while screaming that he was an asshole at the top of her lungs. I knew that the only reason he could possibly get away with having no one find out was because it was exceptionally early. Hardly anyone got to their offices before eight. Otherwise, I knew that people four floors down could have heard the insanity going on.

I nodded at him and stopped wringing my hands. "Do you want me to call facilities to clean this up?" I eyed him carefully, watching the way his hands tensed over the blonde's back. It took me less than a second to remember the pissed off blonde I'd seen recently leaving our floor upset. It had to be the same one, but I couldn't be certain because her back was to me.

"No, I'll clean it up myself," he answered in a lowered tone.

We stood there staring at each other for what felt like an hour, until he cleared his throat, and then started whispering something into the woman's ear. I saw her head nod against his chest before he started walking them out of the office, keeping an arm over the top of her shoulders. He didn't look at me again after that.

I sighed and looked around the normally neat office. It looked like his computer had survived but that might have been it. I didn't _want _ to help him clean, but my conscience was nagging at me, reminding me that this was my boss and it was my job to _assist_ him, even if he was a gigantic asshole. Rolling up the hem of my pants to avoid snagging the material on any glass, I grabbed one of his small trash cans and started picking up the larger pieces of glass.

He might have been gone minutes, but I think it was closer to an hour until Mr. Cullen came back. I was still squatting on the floor, picking up the smaller shards from the floor when he made it in silently. I saw him grab the other small trash can from the corner and then start picking up pieces as well. If he would have been Jasper, I probably would've cracked a joke about finally doing something for himself, but Mr. Cullen wasn't Jasper and it made me long for my old boss's companionship.

We finished picking up the glass quietly, then started on the random pieces of metal and matting. I glanced up to see him frowning at the floor, while he plucked something off the floor and dropped it into the basin. I know that it was out of my business completely, but I couldn't help it. "Is she okay?" I asked him softly, like he'd retaliate if I spoke to him too loudly.

There was no answer at any point.

Neither one of us said anything for the next couple of hours while we finished straightening up his office as best as we could. It was when I heard the phone ringing from its spot on my desk that I hurried out to get the call, leaving him alone.

We didn't talk to each other the rest of the day; he stayed in his office, and I stayed at my desk, resorting to email if I needed him to answer a question. I didn't know what to say, or even if I should say something to him about that morning. I just wasn't sure how he would handle me bringing it up.

At the end of the day, just shortly after six, I was grabbing my things to leave when I saw hurrying out after me. As soon as I was pressing the button for the elevator, he was appeared right next to me. He made a noise before speaking, "I would appreciate it if you refrained from gossiping about this morning's incident to your colleagues, Ms. Swan."

My bristled at his words, caught off guard by what he was telling me. "Excuse me?" I spat without thinking of what I was saying.

"Don't talk about my business," he enunciated every word and syllable.

I raised an eyebrow facing the closed elevators, willing myself to calm down. "Mr. Cullen, if I wanted to tell other people about what happened I would have done so already." I turned to look at him, slowly, seeing those eyes try to bore a hole right through my forehead. I briefly contemplated whether I'd crossed any lines, but honestly, what was he going to do if I did? I could hold this against him if I needed to. I _could_ tell everyone about his insane girlfriend, or whoever she was, but I wouldn't. "I'm not that kind of person."

The elevator doors opened right then, effectively cutting off our conversation, when the portly old man I recognized as our Chief Operating Officer appeared on the other side. "Edward! My boy!"

I snorted softly to myself, thinking that this asshole was anything _but_ a boy.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Happy New Year, my dears! Did everyone have a great Christmas and New Years Eve? I hope so. Just a couple of quick things: 1) If you haven't already checked it out, my collaboration with LucyLiterate is up! Glimmer of Green is posted on my page. 2) I'm taking liberties with this story. As most of you know, I make this up as I go along. So if you know more about the corporate world than I do, I'm sorry if I completely butcher it lol. I also want to look at this story as a puzzle that will be solved as we go along :D Anyway, that is all. I hope you enjoy! My mistakes are my own.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own this asshole though.**_

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><p><em><strong>Friday<strong>_

It had been almost a week since Psychofest 2011, as Angela and I were calling it. I made sure to call and tell her every single detail of the destruction that Mr. Cullen's girlfriend, or whatever she was, inflicted on his office. She knew that I'd helped him clean and the completely asshole conversation he had with me afterward. It was completely uncalled for, I thought. Angela brought up a good point, saying that he might have been incredibly embarrassed and considering he was a dick, wasn't sure how to handle his emotions afterward.

Like that even made up for his shit-tastic attitude.

I'd been mad plenty of times in my life and rarely took it out on others. So it wasn't out of the norm for me to be beyond pissed that he made assumptions about my personality. Angela told me to let it go because it wasn't worth it, and she was right. It was still hard to let that stone in my stomach slip out.

Since then, Mr. Cullen had been very distant. More distant than normal, if that was even possible. He was cold and his half-assed version of polite, keeping contact with me to a minimum. When he needed something, he emailed me. It was only if something was imperative, like his coffee, that he yelled at me in his usual manner.

It was a relief to not have to deal with him in person, but it was also hard on me. I was lonely and bored. I sure as hell didn't miss Lauren, but there was something reassuring about _knowing_ that her annoying ass was right next to me. Even then, there were a dozen other people on my floor that I could talk to or visit if I wanted to. Now, it was just me and this half-hermit half-asshole.

So, when my phone rang that Friday afternoon, and it was Jasper on the other line inviting me out to lunch, I said, "Hell yeah." In a whisper, of course. I missed the cheery son of a bitch. After a large stack of folders were filed, it was noon and I was running out to meet Jasper on the first floor.

"Bella!" he called out to me as soon as I'd stepped off the elevator.

I smiled at my old boss and friend, quickly letting him wrap me in a friendly one-armed hug. "Hey Jasper," I greeted him.

"Let's go," he said. We had were walking out of the building and heading towards a Vietnamese Pho place down the block. "You doing okay?"

I shrugged, momentarily blinded by the sun. "I'm okay. Just busy, busy, busy. How have you been?"

"Good! Alice and I are heading to Hawaii next week, and I'm ready to go. Besides that, same old shit like every day," he laughed.

"Nice," I chuckled at him. It hit me then how much I really missed having someone to talk to, even if it was only for a little bit.

"How are the big wigs upstairs treating you?"

I took a moment to think through my possible answers. Despite the fact that I had no qualms about talking shit about others, I usually only did it to people that knew I didn't like them. Like Lauren and my next door neighbor. While I knew that Jasper wouldn't go off and run his mouth telling everyone that Mr. Cullen was a huge ass, I wasn't sure whether I should tell him how I honestly felt. "Eh," I settled for a snort. "Mr. Cullen is... demanding and _particular_." I added a waggle to my eyebrows.

"I'm all too aware of how _demanding _and _particular_ Edward is," Jasper laughed. "That's a really nice way of putting it."

The fact that he called my new boss by his first name, led me to believe that he knew him personally instead of solely professionally. Every person that I'd ever gone to pick something up from had always called him by his last name, except the COO. "Do you know him _well_?" I couldn't help but ask.

We were right in front of the Pho restaurant and Jasper opened the door for me, ushering me in with a sweep of his hand. The hostess sat us at a table for four, leaving us with menus on the table. "We went to Dartmouth together. He was my roommate for two years," he answered, looking down at the laminated menu.

I scoffed, turning my attention to see what I wanted to order. "Really?" I was a little nervous by then, trying to be conscious of the fact that my mortal enemy and old boss were friends. _Don't say anything stupid_, I reminded myself.

"Yup. That's how I got hired at MSM." He paused for a moment before continuing. "That's also how I got you hired as his assistant, Bella."

My eyebrow went up on its own. This strange puzzle was slowly piecing itself together and my mind was reeling. It seemed strange to me that I'd even been considered for the position since there were other employees in the building with a lot more experience than I had, but in hindsight, I wanted the job security. Why ask questions? "I thought you said that you put in a word with the older Cullen," I whispered.

Jasper nodded before giving me a tender smile. "I did. Edward already knew how great of an employee I thought you were. He was the one who told me to find you another position before we had to let go of our contract workers at the end of the year." He winced. "Don't tell anyone I told you that."

"Huh," was the brilliant response I came up with. Even though my job wasn't on the line anymore, I felt the back of my neck start to itch at how closely I'd come to losing my job. Of course, letting go of employees, even if they were contract workers, was a big deal.

"I thought I was going to have to find a reason to fire your favorite person and give you her position, if push came to shove," he laughed.

My heart swelled in appreciation of the man in front of me. He had watched out for me and made sure that I was taken care of. He'd gone out on a limb to get me a better position that I could have ever anticipated. Sure his friend was an asshole and he pretty much fed me to the sharks, but his intentions were good.

"You just want an excuse to get rid of her," I joked.

"Pretty much," Jasper snickered. "I heard her go into Carmen's office last week raving about how the copier can make double-sided copies."

"Oh God. Remember that time she told Alec he could find a color picture of George Washington at the library?" I was so busy laughing at Lauren's stupidity that I didn't notice the man walking up to our table with his hands shoved into his pockets.

The clearing of a voice to my left snapped me out of my laughter, while Jasper continued laughing his ass off. I turned my head slowly to see green eyes peering at us in amusement. The all too familiar man, with his black three piece suit, stood at the head of our table silently. A moment later, Jasper stopped laughing and looked at his friend and my boss. "Hi," Mr. Cullen finally spoke.

"Hey man, you want to sit?" Jasper asked, gesturing to the empty chair on my right.

Mr. Cullen didn't look at me directly, settling for ducking his head into a curt nod before slipping into the seat next to mine. I didn't know whether to greet him or not, considering I'd just seen him less than thirty minutes before. I settled for giving him a small smile, which he returned with a tight pull of one side of his lips.

"Not to make things awkward, but you haven't returned my phone calls in like a week."

The green eyed man sitting next to me glared at his friend. "I've been busy," he said in an icy tone.

Jasper waved him off and rolled his eyes. "Oh please. We'll talk about it later. Bella doesn't need to know how much of a dick you are."

It was a miracle that I wasn't drinking any water because I'm sure I would've snorted it out of my nose. Instead, I snorted but at least made the effort to look down when I did it. A second later, I looked up to see Jasper smirking in my direction. The waitress dropped by right then to take our orders. We sat there in awkward silence for a minute after placing our orders, while Mr. Cullen took off his jacket and Jasper just stared at him.

Scratching at my face, I tapped the table in front of Jasper to get his attention. "How's Alice?"

Jasper grinned and then went into a story about his wife, Alice, and her thriving mobile dog grooming business. My conversation with him was seamless like usual, but I couldn't help noticing Mr. Cullen's lack of input. He ate his food in relative silence, occasionally looking up in Jasper's direction. He only glanced in my direction when I'd start laughing over something Jasper said.

"You have to come to my birthday party two Saturdays from tomorrow," my old boss mentioned. "It's not like you have anything else to do."

Snorting, I rolled my eyes at his cocky but completely accurate assumption. Jasper asked me every Monday for a year how my weekend went, and he was well aware of the fact that my weekends consisted of the same two things: Angela and possibly my family. Our activities usually consisted of going to flea markets and antique stores; we were boring and proud of it. So, I stuck my tongue out at him. "I'll clear my schedule for you."

Deep blue eyes flickered over to the man sitting next to me. "You're still coming, right?"

"I told you that I would," Mr. Cullen snapped.

Jasper opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then closed it again a second later, like he thought better of it. I could tell his jaw was clenched underneath the stubble of dark blonde hairs on his face. He looked over in my direction instead, and forced a smile on his handsome face. Jasper reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out his wallet. "I got lunch, Bella. Do you mind waiting for me at the door while I pay?"

It didn't take a genius to understand that he wanted to talk to Mr. Cullen alone, so I smiled and nodded. Grabbing my purse, I got up and headed out of the restaurant to stand outside. Less than a handful of minutes later, a head of blonde hair peeped out of the door before his lean frame followed. "Thanks for lunch," I thanked him as soon as we started walking back in the direction of our building.

"You're welcome," he said. Neither one of us said anything until we stopped in front of the large doors to our building. He made a noise, hesitating with his words. "Is he always like that with you?" he asked me in a serious tone.

"Mr. Cullen?" I asked, even though I knew that was exactly who he was referring to. A raise of his sandy colored eyebrows was my response so I shrugged. "Yeah?"

I wasn't stupid. Even though I liked Jasper a lot, I knew better than to insult his best friend, who also happened to be my boss.

"I know Edward is an asshole, Bella. I know that better than anyone, but he's not a bad guy." He paused and sighed. "I didn't think he was being that way with you though."

We stopped in front of the elevator and he pressed the button to go up. I wasn't sure what exactly he meant by his comment about being _that way with me_. A dickhead? That was the only thing I could think of. It wasn't even that he was mean to me, but his iciness and lack of interest in me was brutal. "It's okay if he doesn't like me."

Jasper snickered and waved me into the elevator as soon as the doors opened. "Bella, no one could dislike you."

"Lauren doesn't like me," I laughed.

He scoffed. "She doesn't count."

"It's more like she doesn't know how to count," I couldn't help dishing out.

Jasper snorted in response before the elevator doors opened to his floor. He took a step out but pressed down on the button to keep the doors open. "Look, if he gives you anymore problems tell me. You were my favorite employee and he has no business being a jerk to you. He's just... going through stuff."

"Okay," I said, simply.

He took a final step out of the elevator and pointed at me. "Tell me," he repeated.

I nodded. "Yes sir." I smiled at him right before the doors closed. "Thanks for lunch!" I only managed to catch sight of his waving hand before the doors completely closed on us. A deep breath of air was expelled from my lungs, like I'd been carrying around tension in them since we left the Pho restaurant.

The elevator was empty on the way up, which was nice since it gave me a chance to collect my thoughts. It seemed strange but the fact that Mr. Cullen and Jasper knew each other from before MSM made total sense. It seemed to glue together pieces that I'd ignored. The weird thing was, I couldn't imagine them being friends. Jasper was kind, outgoing, and warm. Mr. Cullen was the exact opposite.

I could only think back on that saying about opposites attracting each other. The rest of the ride up went by quickly and in no time, I was sitting back at my desk, responding to emails. I wanted to wonder why Jasper tried to defend Mr. Cullen, but I could only think that if Angela was in the same position as my boss, I wouldn't want anyone to say she was a bitch even if she was one. She would've been _my_ bitch.

The deep voice I had to succumb to everyday resonated through the office just a few minutes later. I could hear him yapping away on his phone, his tone both frustrated and angry. _Wonderful_.

"I don't care what happened, you should have called me hours ago. I need you to deal with it-" his dark-clad form stopped right in front of my desk at his last words. His hair was askew and his cheeks were pink in what I could only assume was frustration. "I'll see you in a few hours, Felix."

It took him a few more seconds until the person on the other end of the line finished talking and hung up. I tried not to be conspicuous, because God knows I'd already learned that the man was too perceptive for his own good, so I kept typing away on my keyboard my reply to a general manager requesting a meeting with the chief financial officer.

Mr. Cullen cleared his throat and exhaled, deeply. "Isabella."

I let out my own deep breath as my eyes flickered over in his direction. "Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

"Our main warehouse, the one outside of Jupiter, was broken into last night," he muttered, frustration coloring his enunciation. "I'm going to need you to book two rooms in the city and a car for the weekend, starting tonight."

"Okay. Do you want me to put the car rental under your name or whoever your companion is?"

The handsome and asshole-ish man in front of me gave me a flat look. "I'm not letting you drive."

_Letting me drive?_ Oh. Shit.

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><p>You can follow me on Twitter here: http :  www . twitter . com / marianazapata_

My blog is occasionally updated with random stuff as well here: http : / marianazapatawrites . blogspot . com


	11. Chapter 11

Hello! Sweet Jesus, this chapter was hard to write. Anyway, I hope all of you are doing well. Besides being a little sick poop, I'm good. Here's another installment of the TD puzzle. My mistakes are my own but please enjoy!

Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Twilight, I just like to borrow SM's character names.

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><p>Angela was giggling her ass off.<p>

Sitting behind the wheel of her archaic BMW, she steered her car into the next lane to get closer to exit ramp. I'd asked her hours before if she could take me back to MSM after I'd packed up my stuff. I didn't feel comfortable leaving my car in the parking garage over the weekend, and I sure as hell didn't want to ask Mr. Cullen to pick me up from my apartment. The man didn't need another reason to treat me like I was below him if he saw how beat up my complex was.

"Did you make sure to pack some Excedrin in your bag?" the little slut asked me, giggling under her breath.

I didn't even bother glaring at her anymore, she'd been cracking jokes for the last twenty minutes about how I was going to get a migraine spending the weekend with my shit of a boss, how I should find out where the closest hospital was in case I burst a blood vessel, and things of that matter. Fortunately for her, her job didn't require any traveling with Meryl Streep, where mine did.

I mean, I'd been warned when I signed up for it. Needless to say, I didn't know my boss was going to be a cold bastard, surpassed only by Arnold in that old Batman movie. Even though I shouldould have been excited about going down to Jupiter for the weekend, I wasn't. My parents had taken me to Juno Beach a million times as a kid, and I liked going there. Somehow I doubted I would get the chance to even dip my ankles into the green water.

"Do you have your health insurance card with you? You know, in case you have a heart attack, they'll treat you immediately?" Angela continued.

"I hope you get a yeast infection," I muttered in response, recognizing the buildings that came before the MSM offices.

My best friend of nearly ten years snorted as she took a sharp right turn into the visitor parking. "You don't mean that."

"I most definitely do, and I hope that cute pharmacist is the one who has to fill your prescription for you, biatch."

"I hope you get stuck sharing a room with your boss," Ang laughed.

She parked the car into the first spot since the offices had long since been closed, it was close to seven and besides security and the cleaning crew, everyone would be gone. I'd set up the car rental agency to drop off the vehicle here at the offices at seven, so it was only a matter of time before then. I shifted in my seat after unbuckling my seatbelt to smile wickedly at Angela, who turned off of clunker. "Pray for me," I requested, simply.

"I'll bust out my old rosary because I think you're going to need all the help you can get," she said. "Where is he anyway? It's like five minutes until seven."

Shrugging, I turned to look out the window to see if I recognized his car when I realized I didn't even know what the man drove. Either way, would he even leave his car in the parking lot over the weekend? Knowing him, he probably drove some fancy ass, douche car that he kept underneath a tarp twenty-four seven.

Ang poked a slim finger in my side. "Do you have cash on you?"

"Yes, Mom," I answered. "I pulled out some money before driving home to pack. Thanks for asking though." After a botched road trip to Fort Lauderdale in which we needed gas, and found gas stations along the way that only took cash, she'd become paranoid about traveling without the green. I don't think she ever carried less than forty bucks on her, since then.

At five foot nine, my half-Korean best friend, grinned softly in my direction. Her pale skin looked even smoother under the darkening sky. "Just checking."

A sharp rap at my window made both of us shriek like half-dressed hussies in scary movies.

"Sweet baby Jesus!" Angela shrieked.

Followed by my loud "Shit!"

I grabbed at the place where my heart would be, looking out the window to see who in the world had just scared the crap out of us. Recognizing the deep, green eyes on the other side of the glass, I let out a deep exhale as my heart fought its way to regulate itself.

Mr. Cullen stood there, the same bored expression as always filling his features. "I'm here," he said, loudly.

I nodded my response and watched him walk away, toward a slick, black Town car that was parked haphazardly on the fire lane.

"Uhh... please tell me that wasn't your boss," she muttered.

"That isn't my boss?"

Angela's jaw dropped open when I turned to look at her. "Bella, that man is smoking hot."

I couldn't help but groan. "He's a dick."

"A hot dick!" she squealed. "Why didn't you tell me the man looks like a GQ model?"

"It's hard to acknowledge someone's hotness when he has such a shitty personality," I scoffed, looking out the window to see a full sized car and a compact car pulling into the parking lot. "I think that's our car, Ang."

We got out of the car and pulled my small suitcase out of her trunk. Angela wrapped me in a tight hug before whispering in my ear, "_Now_ I really do hope you share a room with that stud."

"You're terrible," I laughed against her ear.

Pulling away, I gave her one last wave before pulling my suitcase in the direction of the Ford Fusion that parked behind Mr. Cullen's Lincoln Town Car. The green-eyed bastard was signing something that one of the two Hertz employees handed him. I paused just behind him, watching a uniformed man get out of Mr. Cullen's car before he popped the trunk and pulled out a suitcase twice the size of mine, as well as a garment bag. The man carried the luggage over to the Ford at the same time Mr. Cullen pressed down on the fob to open the rental's trunk.

Minutes later, the paperwork was done and the car was loaded with my suitcase and Mr. Cullen's belongings. Sitting in the passenger seat, I went as far as buckling myself in while he did God knows what outside for the next few moments. Then, all of a sudden, he pulled open the car door and slid in. Mr. Cullen didn't say anything while he buckled in, turned on the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. He didn't bother turning on the radio either, so we sat in silence for what seemed like an entire hour.

I inwardly groaned, thinking of the next two and half hours we were going to spend in the car together. Even though I would have liked to fish the copy of _The Book Thief_ I'd borrowed from Angela a few days back, it was too dark outside to read without hurting my eyes. Something also told me that the ass in the seat next to mine would complain about turning on the dome light.

The next hour was the slowest and most boring hour of my life. I'd done the drive so much, there was nothing of interest for me to see that I hadn't seen a million times before. Top that off with the stifling silence of the cabin, and my inability to fall asleep— and it was brain numbing. I'd thought about texting Angela, but then decided that it might be rude. It was only when I heard him start humming one of my favorite songs, albeit very, very quietly, that I felt some spark of hope for the remainder of the trip.

"I have their greatest hits album on my iPod," I told him.

When he didn't respond to me immediately, I rolled my eyes and shifted to face out of the window. _What a fucking asshole_, I thought to myself.

"There should be an iPod connector somewhere," he finally replied, in a low voice.

I told myself sternly not to turn and look at him directly in the face. So, I didn't. Instead, I looked around until I found the cable attached to the radio, pulled my old iPod touch out of my purse before I found the Queen album, and connected it. Bohemian Rhapsody filled the car, and I swear the thick tension I'd felt earlier, dissipated just a bit. Every once in a while, I'd catch him humming a little louder to one song or another.

It was when Don't Stop Me Now started that he went as far as reaching out to increase the volume, surprising the shit out of me. The snort that escaped my nose was so abrupt, I froze because _really? Don't Stop Me Now?_

"Do you think something is funny?" he asked me, immediately after my outburst.

Side-eyeing him, I thought for a brief second about playing it off but decided against it. If there was one thing I wasn't, it would be a liar. I may beat around the bush, but I wouldn't lie to him. I mean, there was nothing against company policy that said I couldn't laugh at my boss. "I wouldn't take you for a Don't Stop Me fan."

The bastard didn't bother to reply with words, instead he just shrugged and the silence continued on. It had to be noted that the patience I showed that man was award-winning. Queen filled ever crevice in the car for the remainder of the trip, only getting shortly cut off when he asked me what hotel we were staying at. Under normal circumstances, I would have asked the person I was going on a trip with whether they knew where we were going, but he didn't say anything. I'd never had one of those nice navigation systems, and I definitely didn't have one on my phone, so I'd gotten directions from the hotel we were booked at.

I'd looked through Mr. Cullen's old travel files to see that he usually stayed at a Hilton or at a Marriott, so I booked the closest Marriott to Jupiter. Once parked, we both got out of the car quickly and headed into the lobby to check in. Fortunately, it was painless and in less than ten minutes we each had our own key in hand before heading back out to the car for our luggage. I wasn't delusional enough to think that he would take the bag out of the trunk for me, so I pulled it out myself to avoid any anger. He glanced at me quickly through the corner of his eye when I did it, but said nothing.

"At what time do you want to leave for the warehouse in the morning, Mr. Cullen?" I asked him once we were in the elevator, going up.

"Meet me at seven in the lobby," he answered.

With that last response, we stayed silent until entering our respective rooms, which were right across the hall from another. In record time, I stripped down, took a shower, and then crawled underneath the covers to read about Liesel while glancing at the television at the same time. We'd gotten to the hotel a little after ten, and in no time it was midnight and I was turning off the light to try and catch at least a handful of hours of sleep. Most nights, I didn't dream of anything, but every once in a while I would have a dream about Angela, my brother, or just something random. I slept on my side and tended never to have any nightmares.

So, when the first of the screaming started, it scared the living crap out of me. I shot up in bed, looking around the strange room to find the source of the yells. It took me a second to register that someone was banging on my door as well. The sounds of a woman screaming and a man yelling back were unfamiliar, but _yet..._

Not thinking twice about the fact that I was in my pajamas and that it was sometime in the middle of the night, I pulled the door to my hotel room open with panic in my chest. I recognized the screams and when I saw the blonde hair on the other side, wicked looking eyes, and angry snarl, I was caught completely off-guard.

"You slut!" Kate, Mr. Cullen's woman, screamed at me before launching her open palms in the direction of my face.

I'd like to think that I was still so half-asleep that it was the reason why I let her get a good three or four slaps in without any effort to block her. Then, I just reacted like my brother had taught me as a girl.

According to Emmett, he always wanted a younger brother. Five years my senior, he treated me like one when our parents told him they weren't planning on having anymore kids. Emmett rough-housed with me, practiced wrestling and karate moves, teaching me how to punch as soon as I turned thirteen, and eventually paying for self-defense classes right before senior year. He'd been my best friend and mentor my entire life when it came to all things involving violence of some sort.

In less time than it took me to floss a couple of teeth, I'd pushed Kate back, and grabbed both of her hands within mine, looking wildly around to see Mr. Cullen standing just a couple of feet away with his mouth agape. My blood boiled seeing him standing there, helpless and useless, while _his_ friend attacked me.

"You're a fucking slut!" the blonde woman screamed in my face.

"I already called security!" an unfamiliar voice just to my other side exclaimed.

I looked over, struggling just the slightest to keep Kate from slipping out of my hold, to see that two other people from our floor were standing in the hallway, in their underwear, looking alarmed. Kate kicked my leg with the toe of her shoe, nailing me right to the side of my shin, contacting the muscle there with a vengeance. I yelped before pushing my body weight against her to keep her legs immobile. My heart was beating fast while I pushed against Kate again, looking down at the dark carpet. I didn't want to look up. I didn't want to see Mr. Cullen's stupid face _right there_.

I don't think I'd ever been so pissed off in my life.

It wasn't like I actually needed his help, but still. I'd never met a man that wouldn't have stood up for me, if I needed it. Obviously, I'd needed it.

My face felt a million degrees of heat in the seconds it took for two security guards to make their way onto our fourth floor and take over restraining Kate. The on-duty manager for Marriott followed a heartbeat later, questioning me about what had happened. My words were gasped and short because I didn't know what the hell had gone on.

"I was asleep... I heard screaming and then banging on my door, so I opened it before she started slapping me. I just held her down until she stopped," was what I told the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man, Aro, leaned forward with wide eyes. "Is she a friend?"

I grimaced a little more than I should have, and shook my head. "No, she knows him," I gestured to Mr. Cullen, who was standing off to the side. It was the first chance I'd gotten to really take a look at him, he was in a white undershirt and black pajama bottoms, looking pretty, well, haggard. "He's my boss."

Aro nodded and sighed, "I'll talk to him later, but first..."

The next two hours were spent at the local emergency room, getting screened by a doctor to make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong with me. Besides a reddened face where I'd gotten slapped, the possibility of a few bruises, and my aching leg, I was fine. Aro had insisted I pay a visit and drove me there himself. He gave me enough time to put on some jeans and tennis shoes before hauling me out of my room. I didn't see him bother with Mr. Cullen at all, and honestly, I didn't give a flying fuck. My head hurt, but it was because I couldn't understand at all why he didn't stop what had happened.

In some way, I felt betrayed.

After saying bye to Aro, the manager, I slipped into my room absolutely fucking exhausted. I couldn't even bother turning on the light before I was peeling off my pants and crawling into bed before I heard the faint knock at my door.

"Isabella?" the soft voice murmured from the other side of the door.

Another faint knock.

"Isabella?" I knew it was Edward, I could recognize the timbre of his voice even though he was speaking so low.

I was too tired to be pissed off in that moment, so when he knocked on my door again, I simply slipped under the sheets and turned my back in the darkened room, facing away from the door.

"Ms. Swan?" he whispered, right before my eyes closed.

That was the first night Mr. Cullen came to my door.

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><p>I post a whole lotta nonsense on twitter, but on occasion I do post something useful. For example, the take-down date for ILMN. So, if you'd like to keep up to date on what's going on with my stories (and my nonsense) you can follow me here: http :  www . twitter . com / marianazapata_

Also, I'm getting better at posting on my blog (woo hoo!) which you can check out here: http : / marianazapatawrites . blogspot . com


	12. Chapter 12

_**Hi everyone! Sorry this took longer than expected, but I went on a trip for a few days (haven't gotten to reviews but I will and I love you guys and your amazing words!) and earlier today opened up my document to find that *gasp* 2,000 words were missing! Not. A. Happy. Camper. Anyway, thank you all for your amazing support of TD! I promise the story is slowly chugging its way down the path. As always, I make shit up as I go along so forgive me if my police protocol isn't completely accurate. I'm off to bed. My mistakes are my own. Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: Own Twilight, I do not. This jackass, I do.**_

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><p><em><strong>Saturday<strong>_

I cried a little as soon as I woke up.

Under normal circumstances, if I'd only gotten three hours of sleep, I probably would have wanted to cry regardless, but this was different.

My leg hurt. It hurt to flex my foot, it hurt when I swung my leg over the side of the bed, and when I put weight on it to get up, I shrieked. The pain was like nothing I'd felt before. Limping my way to the bathroom, I flicked on the light and bent over to inspect that battered muscle that protested every possible movement. My calf muscle, where Kate had kicked the living shit out of me the night before, was the strangest shade of yellow. It almost looked fluorescent with some light brown spotting in places. In the span of my life, I've had a great deal of cuts, bruises, a broken nose, and a few broken toes. I wasn't unfamiliar with pain or with the ugly purplish-red shading of bruises that could dot my body.

But that bruise... scared the shit out of me.

I knew that it wasn't ordinary. A normal bruise would have made it uncomfortable for me to walk but not so much. It was painful to get around the bathroom, so after I peed and turned on the shower to warm up, I chanced a glance in the mirror before brushing my teeth.

There were a couple of faint reddish bruises on each side of my face. They weren't horrific by any standards, but they were noticeable especially since I wasn't wearing any make-up. My anger flared like a wildfire out of control remembering how much of a sac-less piece of shit my boss had been when his girlfriend had attacked me. The hurt and betrayal at the situation only fueled my fire.

So, as soon as I took the quickest shower in the history of my life and got dressed at a turtle-like pace because my leg was killing me, I headed out of the hotel room with my phone clutched in my palm. When the elevator dropped me off on the first floor, I pressed the button to call Jasper. More than anything, I wanted to call Ang but knew it would be a terrible idea. Despite being the sweetest girl I'd ever met, she had the worse temper in the world and would throw the biggest fit in the universe if I told her what happened. Either way, my call to Jasper couldn't wait. Angela could. I knew it was six-thirty in the morning, but I also knew that he was leaving today for his vacation and if I didn't talk to him now, I wouldn't get another chance for a while.

"Hello?" his husky voice answered after four rings.

I made my way toward the restaurant next to the reception area. "Jasper? It's Bella."

He was quiet for a few moments, but I could hear him whispering something and then rustling. "Hey, is everything okay?" I knew my friend would know that I wouldn't be calling him this early on a Saturday morning for no good reason.

"Not exactly," I said, seating myself at the closest table to the entrance. Over the next few minutes, I ordered my breakfast and told my old boss everything that happened the night before. He stayed quiet the entire time.

"Leave," was the first thing out of his mouth once I was done talking. "Fuck him, Bella. Go get your stuff and call a taxi."

"I can't just leave!" I squeaked. I knew why I was calling Jasper, and it wasn't to get his approval for me to leave. I was trying to be logical and keep my priorities in order, my mom had taught me to think with my head and not my emotions no matter how tempting it was to be brash. My bills: my apartment, insurance, utilities, cell phone, and _fuck_, my savings for school were all tied to this job.

"Yes, you can. He won't fire you, I swear," Jasper replied. He cursed under his breath before sighing. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what to think or even what to say to you, Bella. I feel like this is my fault."

"It's not your fault his girlfriend is out of her fucking mind. Look, I can't leave just like that. You know I need a job, but I need your help. Please?"

"I want you to leave. That should have never happened—"

"And I agree with you. My face and my leg agree with you, but I'm going to do this the right way," I sighed, frustrated. "Look, I need to eat my breakfast before he comes down. Have a good vacation, okay?"

"Bella—"

"Jasper—"

He groaned. "Fine, but I swear if anything else happens you need to go. Promise me."

"I promise," I answered.

With a quick goodbye and a promise to email in case anything else _did _happen, I finished my breakfast and at five minutes till seven, settled my tab and started the slow and painful walk to the lobby where he instructed me to meet him. Having barely limped my way out of the restaurant, did I catch the bronze head standing down the lobby with hands tucked into pockets. My heart started a thunderous beat against my ribs at seeing the son of a heffer just standing there casually. Unharmed. Without bruises. My bruises, my pain were his fault and my blood ran cool in my veins.

Tears prickled in the corners of my eyes, traitorously. I didn't want to get upset, but it was impossible not to. The tangy betrayal I felt last night was seeping through my flesh, battling against the anger that also wanted to take reign. I didn't know whether to be angry, hurt, or just plain sad that I was stuck working for someone who didn't care about me at all. I'd met complete strangers in the past who had more courtesy than this man who I dedicated more than half my time to.

And to think that I tried my best to think he was above being a piece of shit because once upon a time, he had helped jumped my car.

Piercing green eyes caught mine from across the room and this time, I didn't bother ducking my gaze to avoid him. I wanted him to see this. I wanted him to feel guilty for what he had done because by doing nothing the night before, he had definitely done something. Those strange, intense eyes raked me down slowly, taking in my painful stride and definitely eyeing the color beneath my makeup.

_Fucking asshole._

At the last minute, when I was just a dozen or so feet away from him, I shifted my direction and headed toward the doors leading to the parking lot instead. Every tissue in my body wanted me to be able to run away from him and ignore him, but I couldn't. I had to walk slowly and steadily to the doors. Unfortunately, the half-man called my employer decided to pull out his gentleman card for the first time in weeks and jogged around me to open the door for me. Biting my cheek, I eyed him critically as I walked past him. His eyes widened when I passed by.

"Isabella," he called out.

I kept walking, holding my head high as the tears lingered in my eyes. My heart rate hadn't decreased at all.

"Isabella," he repeated, just like he had the night before.

Steeling my back, I kept walking until I made it to the car. When he walked around to the drivers side, I took in the lines around his eyes and the crease on his forehead. He looked just as tired as I felt, and I didn't give half a shit. The ride was silent except for the repeated drawn out sighs he expelled. It could've been his way to get my attention, but I didn't fall for it and kept my body angled to face out of the window.

A massive, drab-looking building loomed in the distance as the car pulled into the huge lot in front of it. When he pulled the car into the closest spot to the front doors, we got out quietly and I couldn't help but notice that he walked slowly enough so that he wasn't twenty feet ahead.

As soon as I'd finished walking up the four most painful steps of my life, a tall, dark-haired man opened one of the doors and smiled in my direction before quickly wiping off the expression when he spied Mr. Cullen directly behind me.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen," he greeted the asshole.

It wasn't a surprise when Mr. Cullen began bossing me around to walk around the building like my leg was fine. It also wasn't a surprise that his attitude took a turn for the worst when the manager didn't have some of the files he requested. The poor man flinched when Mr. Cullen's cool and impatient words nipped at him.

During an inspection of the crates that had been ripped open during the burglary, the dark-haired man that had greeted us in the morning gave me a sheepish smile when Mr. Cullen walked off with the same manager who had gotten his ass chewed out earlier.

"Is he always like that?" the man whispered.

I couldn't help but give him a lopsided grin before shrugging. "Umm...yes."

His dark eyes widened and he smiled sheepishly. "Somehow telling you that I'm sorry doesn't seem to cut it." I snickered at his words and he laughed. We stood there together silently before following the two men who had walked off moments before. He kept eyeing me as we walked, so, so slowly after them. "Do you want some Aleve?" he asked out of the blue.

I squeaked in excitement. "That would be amazing."

"Isabella!" Mr. Cullen's voice bellowed from down the hall, earning him an eye roll from both me and the other man. I followed after the prick, who wanted me to contact the suppliers and make sure the warehouse manager had already placed a reorder of some of the things that were stolen. I had no clue who in the hell I was supposed to call, but knew better than to ask Mr. Cullen.

By the end of the day, I'd spoken exactly twenty-five words to my boss. They mainly consisted of _yes, no, _and _okay_, with the occasional sprinkle of a short sentence. After downing an Aleve and taking a couple more for later on in the day, my leg was unbearable and I'd gotten somewhat used to the strange looks from the warehouse employees who stared at my face and then leg. During my quick lunch break, I'd thought up ideas as to what they could've thought happened to me for fun.

My stomach was churning and I felt weak beyond words when six o'clock rolled around and Mr. Cullen decided to call it a day. We didn't get as much done as he would've liked based on his grumbling, but I shrugged it off knowing that I'd busted my ass for eleven hours. Even in the silence of the car, you could hear my stomach rolling as it ate away at my reserves and I didn't care. As soon as we parked at the hotel, I started limping my way to the restaurant before I heard a familiar voice in the lobby.

"Ms. Swan!" the night manager from last night hissed.

My heart sank because all I wanted to do was eat, but I turned to face the man anyway. "Hi," I said, eyeing Mr. Cullen who had stopped on his trek to the elevators.

Aro quickly walked to my side, running a hand over his face. "Good evening, Ms. Swan. How are you today?" he asked with a grimace on his face, at what I could only assume to be my bruised face.

"I've definitely been better, but I'll live."

"The officer that responded to our call last night came by today and said he would be back tonight to speak to you about pressing charges. I just wanted to warn you in advance," Aro said, glancing in Mr. Cullen's direction as he spoke.

Tension rolled through my shoulders at his words. I hadn't even thought about pressing charges against Kate because I'd been so distracted by the fucking throbbing in my leg. I couldn't help but grimace and nod. "Thank you for telling me. I guess I'll just get something to eat in my room. When he gets here, can you just escort him upstairs? Please? I don't want to come back down here again, my leg is killing me."

He quickly agreed and assured me that he would do just that. My plans of eating in the restaurant were slashed because all of a sudden, I felt exhausted and the upcoming conversations weighed heavily on my shoulders. I had a decision that I needed to make and wasn't sure what to do. I'd like to think that I wasn't a malicious person, I didn't do mean things to other people just for the heck of it. But...

I walked in the direction of the elevators to see that Mr. Cullen was standing right in front of them. When the doors opened, he stepped in first because he was just a gentleman like that and I followed afterward. As soon as the doors closed, he angled his body toward mine. "Isabella, I need to speak to you about last night," he began.

I turned my head to look at him in his three-piece dark gray suit and white shirt. He was the epitome of clean and collected until my eyes took in the furrow between his eyebrows, the tired bags under his eyes, and the hard line of his mouth. Regardless of all that, he was still handsome underneath the layer of ugly that wrapped him whole. I didn't bother saying anything to him but instead blinked. Knowing my mouth, I'd say the wrong thing and I'd rather not say anything than say something ugly.

"Can you please talk to me?" he pleaded before pressing the button for our floor.

I blinked again.

"Isabella," he said in the most exasperated voice I'd ever heard.

"Yes?" I spit out through gritted teeth.

He blinked at me. "What happened last night—," his deep voice carried words throughout the elevator, but I zoned them out. There was something about "mistake" and "out of hand," but they were just words that didn't mean anything. Words that didn't take back what happened and fixed my leg. They didn't bring back the small amount of respect that I'd lost for the man standing in front of me. "Isabella."

"Mr. Cullen?"

Green irises narrowed my in direction. "You weren't listening to me, were you?" When I didn't respond he shook his head at the same time the elevator doors opened. "Why won't you talk to me?" he insisted.

I walked out of the elevator first while my mind raced with an appropriate response to his question. I couldn't, for the life of me, fathom why he was being so insistent on talking to me when he'd done his best to either avoid me, or make my life somewhat miserable for weeks. I didn't bother looking at him when I responded. "My mom taught me that if I don't have anything nice to say, I shouldn't say anything at all."

"Isabella," he pleaded right before I felt warm fingers wrap around my forearm, pausing my stuttered step. "I deserve whatever it is you have to say. I promise I won't retaliate."

His tone, full of something I couldn't quite pinpoint between regret and frustration, tinged at my nerves. I turned my head to look at him, my beautiful boss who was really a beast, and narrowed my eyes like he'd done moments before. The resigned sigh that slipped out of my lips was the first sign of my undoing. I realized I didn't have anything to lose. If he decided to fire me... well then, I'd deal with it but he needed to know the consequences of his actions. Or, in this case, his lack of actions. "Mr. Cullen, everything you just tried to finish telling me are just words. Words mean nothing to me. Have you heard the saying that actions speak louder than words?"

I didn't wait for a response before taking a deep breath. "You can tell me that you're sorry that your girlfriend hit me while you stood by and did nothing, but that won't change the fact that I was attacked by someone in your life for no reason. I was called a slut for no reason. I was kicked, for absolutely no reason at all. While you _stood there_," my voice cracked with emotion. All the betrayal that lay buried within my fibers bubbled up as I spoke to him, looking him right in sea glass colored eyes.

"I realize that while you may not like me for whatever reason, you should have done something. You're my boss, and I'd like to believe that if someone was hurting you, I'd do something about it." I thought briefly about making a jab in regards to his manhood for not stepping in but decided against it. I didn't want to lower myself to his level. I met his eyes once more in silence. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to order room service and lie down before the police come by to speak with me."

I wasn't expecting him to chase me down the hall to clarify anything or even try to speak with me again, so when I closed the door behind me and limped to the bed, I relaxed. Looking at my cell phone, I thought about calling Angela again but decided against it. I thought about calling my parents and decided that would be a terrible idea as well. I'd probably start crying within the first few minutes and blubber everything that happened. I could only begin to imagine the shit storm that would begin to brew if my dad or brother found out about Kate or worse, my boss.

When the smoking hot cop came by an hour later and told me about my rights, and what I could do against Kate Walters, I froze.

"She has a record of disorderly conduct," the blonde man told me with a grimace. "I can't tell you what to do, but..."

His face told me everything.

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><p>you can follow me on twitter here: http :  www . twitter . com / marianazapata_ i'm nice and i post embarrassing things that happen to me. how much fun is that?

for longer nonsense you can visit my blog here : http : / marianazapatawrites . blogspot . com

xoxo - mariana


	13. Chapter 13

Hi everyone. Here's a slightly shorter chapter since it's taken me forever, some of you guys kind of killed me with your reactions last chapter. I have a couple of things to throw out there:

1) **If you don't like my story, please don't read it. **I've asked for your trust from the beginning and I never said this was going to be an easy road. No one is forcing you to read TD, so please jump ship now if negativity is going to be what flows from your fingertips when you PM me, email me, or review. Although I respect insightful opinions, I don't respect someone who blows fire from their mouth.

2) To my readers who are on the wagon with me— THANK YOU! Especially to the very sweet Twilight Musings who put my heart back together with her kind words. I love you guys, I really do.

3) I started a new drabble-ish story (call me crazy). BALLETWARD LIVES! I'm updating once a day (well, twice daily as of right now but we're only 4 chapters in). Silver and Gold, check it out if you please.

Enough blah. No beta ever, forgive my mistakes. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but I do own this idea, and I will cut a bitch if someone steals it.

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><p>To say that I was tense and in pain the moment I woke up on Sunday would be an understatement.<p>

My leg hurt and I felt incredibly achy all over for some strange reason. Getting off the bed, I processed the events from the night before with weariness. Officer Kinley's blue-green eyes danced across my eyelids while I showered, his voice my steady companion while I thought about the decision that had been made on top of the hotel room bed.

I was pressing charges against Kate Walters.

Officer Kinley's tight but approving smile were my beacon. I was doing the right thing, even though I detested the drama and the headache that would follow my choice. At the end of the night, when I tucked myself in, I knew that I'd done the best thing I could do for myself and any other victim of Kate's insanity.

The bitch was crazy, simply put.

I didn't even think about Mr. Cullen the slightest bit. He wasn't the one who physically hurt me. I knew that it really wasn't his fault that Kate was crazy unless he's the one that injected her with crazy serum but I highly doubted it. From the look on her face the first time I met her, I knew there was no way her shitty attitude wasn't a product of genes and crappy parenting. Mr. Cullen's greatest mistake in the situation was apathy. I wasn't thinking about forgiving him anytime soon… or ever but that was besides the point. So, I didn't allow myself to think about him and our lacking work-relationship.

I showered and got ready for the day, limping from bathroom to bedroom to see the hotel phone flashing red with a message. Frowning, I picked up the receiver and checked the waiting message, knowing damn well that it could only be Mr. Cullen, Aro, or Officer Kinley. No one else knew what room I was in or even what hotel I'd be staying in.

"_Isabella, please meet me in my room before you go downstairs,"_ Mr. Cullen's damned velvet instructed.

I made a face, of course, and grabbed my purse to walk across the hall. Knocking once, the door flew open to reveal my bastard boss standing there knotting his tie. He gestured me forward with a flick of his hand. "Come in." He hesitated for a split second before adding, "Please."

I couldn't help but snort at his newly acquired manners. _Son of a bitch_. Looking down, I stepped into the room identical to mine and limped my way over to the opposite side of it, going around a cart filled with breakfast food. Pausing in front of a chair tucked into the corner, I sat in it, not really giving a flying shit that I did it without his approval.

"What's going on?" his velvet voice broke through the silence a minute later. Mr. Cullen was standing in front of his bed, straightening his tie.

Giving him the best blank stare I could muster, I shrugged. "I don't understand what you're asking me." And I didn't. When Ang would ask me what was going on, it was when you knew something was bothering me. When Emmett asked me what's going on, he met with my life in general.

"Your leg, Isabella," he gestured in my direction with a short nod. "You're still limping."

My jaw clenched on its own. "It hurts, Mr. Cullen." Like a bitch, I made sure to enunciate each word in case he didn't understand that when someone is in pain, they tend to limp. Fucking idiot.

Those green eyes narrowed in my direction, frustration creasing his forehead. "Is it bruised? From when…" he swallowed, "she kicked you."

MEN!

It was probably unfair of me to put all men into the stupid bubble that I was including Mr. Cullen in. I man as smart as he was… could be that fucking dense? Jesus Christ.

I took a deep breath to steady my soaring annoyance. "I don't think calling it a bruise is really the word I would use, sir."

He took three long steps in my direction, eating up the carpet like a starved man and in no time, he was kneeling in front of my chair with his fingers touching the hem of my pant leg. "I'm pulling up your pants to take a look," he warned but it seemed more like he was _telling_ me that he was going to do it instead of really asking me for my permission.

Mr. Cullen pulled up the material slowly, careful not to touch my skin until he folded it in sections over my knee. His large hand rounded over my heel, extending my leg out very slowly while keeping his eyes on the bright yellow color that highlighted my skin in ugly splashes. For a brief second, I thought about kicking him in the face or at least in the chest so he could fall back but decided that the pain I'd feel moving my leg like that, wasn't worth it.

"Isabella," he grumbled. He was shaking his bronze head of hair like pendulum and I think I even heard him suck in a breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I didn't say anything in response. What could I have said? Because I hate your guts? Okay, well maybe that was an exaggeration. I hated Lauren and my ex. I really just detested Mr. Cullen and his presence.

"I thought—," he sighed, still looking me over. "I thought it was just a sore muscle or maybe a bruise. Forgive me," his voice dropped in pitch and for once, even though I wouldn't accept his miserable words, I could hear the apology in his tone. It sounded like an apology that rarely ever left his full mouth. This was a man who never seeked acceptance from anyone.

My heart started hammering in my chest but I didn't say anything in response.

He sat there a minute longer before gently rolling down the stretchy material of my black slacks. The heel of his palms went up to grind into his eye sockets. "I'm taking you to the doctor," he said before mumbling long steams of words under his breath, too low for me to hear.

I thought for a millisecond whether to argue with him about going to the doctor or not. The emergency room visit a few nights back had already told me that I didn't have anything broken but there was no way in hell I wanted to live with this pain for an undetermined amount of time. Fuck. That. Pushing myself off the armrests of the chair, I stood up on shaky feet.

"I can take a cab."

He turned to look at me sharply, giving me a look that rivaled my moms when I talked back to her the one and only time in my life. It was a look that could melt the surface of concrete. "Absolutely not. You're my responsibility—"

I couldn't help but snort loudly, shaking my head. "With all due respect, don't tell me things that you _think_ I want to hear, Mr. Cullen. I'd hate to see how you treat a dog if you consider me a responsibility." The words flew out of my mouth faster than I could think. Or, in this case, I didn't think. I knew I'd cross the line but there was no going back.

The beast in front of me let out a shudder of a breath before nodding in what looked like defeat. "I'm driving you to the doctor," he insisted simply.

Hours later, after a lengthy wait in urgent care and a visit to the pharmacy, I'd been diagnosed with a muscle contusion and loaded up with prescription Tylenol, since Vicodin and I were sworn enemies. They offered me crutches but I took the walking cane instead to help with the first week of pain, which the doctor claimed would be the worst.

Mr. Cullen was strangely silent the entire time, even when he handed me a breakfast taco he bought at the facility while we waited for me to be seen. He paid for my medical bills before I even made it out. I chalked up his kind gestures with a few things. He was probably genuinely remorseful that he'd stood by and done nothing, and then was enough of a jerk to let me walk around the day before. He might have also been worried that I was going to try to take legal action against him, which I would never do. Or possibly even worse for a career-driven man like himself, get him into trouble with the company.

But Mr. Cullen didn't know me. He hadn't taken the time to find out that I was not a vengeful person by nature. I'd never do any of those things. I was going to try and leave him— that would be my revenge and liberation. He was a great worker and I wouldn't tarnish his image because I wasn't raised like that. I was a good person regardless of what he thought.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning, promptly at 8," was the one and only sentence he spoke to me on the way back to the hotel. I nodded my acceptance, not caring in the least bit that there was still a ton of things to do at the warehouse. He could deal with that himself.

We made it back to the hotel in a slow crawl of steps and I slipped into my hotel room early that afternoon. The medicine made me sleepy and I soon found myself passed out for a couple of hours here and there. At some point, there was a soft knock on the door followed by an accented voice, "Room service."

I got warily and peered out through the peephole. Letting the attendant in, he sat a large plate of a sandwich, chips, fruit, and a glass or orange juice onto the bed. "I didn't order anything," I told him with a sleepy voice.

The young man shrugged and looked at a small receipt in his hand. "We verified the account, ma'am. The order is for your room."

I tipped him and tried to think before picking up the sandwich.

It was my favorite, roast beef.

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><p>Twitter me: marianazapata_<p>

Blog me: http : / www . marianazapata . com


	14. Chapter 14

How did I get so lucky to have such great readers? You guys are wonderful. Seriously. I'd give each and every one of you sweet souls a hug and a kiss. On that note, please forgive me for not responding to reviews. Like some of you know, I'm posting daily for my other story Silver and Gold, and picked up my outtake collection for ILMN The Road to Porn Wives. I just haven't had time but I appreciate all of your kind words like crazzzzzzyyyyy. Thank you for trusting me and sticking around!

**This is a slow building story. Slow. Building. Say it with me: slowww buildingggg. I've called it a puzzle before. There will be answers and redemption in time. If you want fireworks and action, I will gladly rec you another story. There are about 100,000 other stories on here that are amazing and have Edwards who are off-the-bat sweet and wonderful but this is my story and my Edward. This Edward will be redeemed and hopefully you'll grow to love him but it's going to take some time. Thanks for understanding :)**

This has been long enough. We're still chugging along.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but I do own this asshole.

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><p><em><strong>Monday<strong>_

I'd always considered my life to be pretty normal. It was routine and safe, and… well, happy in its own way. I was happy. So, when things changed, when things created a ripple in my remote, lonely lake, it stuck with me.

Like the roast beef sandwich the day of my hospital visit.

Or the gruff "Good morning" that Mr. Cullen deemed me worthy of receiving the next morning. The man who _might _bless me with a nod if he was in a good mood, or a roll of deep green eyes if he was in a bad mood, told me good-freaking-morning?

I knew it had to have been him who sent me the sandwich because Aro wouldn't have guessed what I liked to eat and I highly doubted that Officer Kinley did it. I remembered sharing my lunch with Mr. Cullen a few weeks back and it had to have been roast beef. But, a fucking sandwich wasn't going to get him anywhere near my good graces. It might spare him from me pushing him in front of a moving bus, but that was as good as he was as safe as he was going to get. Now. Forever. Whatever.

The car ride back to Orlando was silent except for the one question he asked me as soon as we'd gotten into the car. "Is your iPod charged?"

I didn't bother giving him a response but settled for finding my fully-charged big, black brick out my purse and connecting it to the stereo with Queen's greatest hits playing. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't awkward going out of my way to ignore the brooding man sitting less than two feet away. His hands would occasionally tap the steering wheel to the rhythm of whatever song was playing but that would be the only thing that would tell me he was aware of anything other than the road ahead.

When we got to MSM, he stopped the car in the circular drive and put it into park. "I won't be back in the office today," he said in a deep voice. I shifted in the seat to look at him and nodded, a little dumbfounded.

"Okay," my hand was on the door handle when I heard him put the car into park and open his door.

By the time I'd gotten out of and grabbed my cane, he'd pulled out my suitcase and rolled it over to where I was standing. "Hold on," he said so quietly I almost didn't hear him before he was walking into the lobby.

That fact that he'd grabbed my suitcase out of the car threw another ripple in my stagnant lake.

A minute later, one of the security guards was following him to our rental. The man grabbed the handle for my suitcase and flashed me a little smile. "I'm taking this up to your office for you, Miss Isabella."

"You're an angel, thank you," I smiled at him, keeping an eye on the green-eyed man standing just to my right in case he magically morphed into a magical white elephant or something absolutely ridiculous. The son of a bitch I knew would have made me walk to our office with my suitcase _and_ his. I knew that Mr. Cullen had asked the security guard to help me and before I could think about that any longer, he was in the car and leaving without another word.

I didn't see him again for the rest of the week.

_**Tuesday**_

By the time I made it into work, I had an email from my favorite fucking asshole, explaining that he'd be in Jupiter for the rest of the work week. A very tiny part of me felt bad that he was off dealing with the burglary by himself, but a huge part of me was relieved. I still had work to do but it was centered around my computer and my leg couldn't have been happier.

On the other hand, the rest of me wasn't as happy. That morning, I went to the Human Resources floor to talk to the employee who had processed my paper work for my position. Her eyes were wide when I came in with my rose colored bruises and gimp-walk. Her pale eyes went even wider when I explained to her what happened — minus the part about Mr. Cullen knowing the crazy bitch, and then explained that I wanted to see if I could transfer to a different department.

Words like "I'll talk to the legal department about finding you representation… and a freak coincidence…" were tossed around but they weren't the words I wanted. She never gave me those. Things that sounded like "you signed a contract… letting people go… limited openings…" slipped out of her mouth like oil tainting my water-based dreams. They didn't blend in like I hoped, but dropped like a solid lump into my ideas.

"I'll try my best," was the only hope I had. They weren't a promise but they were the only things I could cling onto for life. They were my possible salvation, but I knew Jasper would help me. It was just a big, fat matter of _when_.

_**Wednesday**_

"When the hell were you going to tell me, Bella?" Angela poked at my face after I told her the entire story.

I'd been dreading having to tell Angela what happened. My stomach hurt almost as much as it did during my yearly gynecologist exam. It was pretty much a given that she'd overreact and ask a million questions.

"Today?" I asked her.

She rolled her dark, almond-shaped eyes at me while her face turned a bright pink. "I'm going to kick that cunty slut's ass!" she hissed, poking at the fading bruise on my face.

"I'm pressing charges against her," I tried to ease her worries.

"Damn right you're pressing charges," Ang mumbled. She eyed me for another minute. "And he just stood there?"

I nodded.

"Fucking stupid, pretty face…" She sighed and sat on the couch right next to me, flexing her hands into fists over and over again. "He didn't say anything to you? Didn't try to explain why he sat there like a useless turd?"

"Oh, he tried but I told him I didn't want to hear it."

"Good girl," she hummed in approval. "You want me to kick his ass? You know I used to take karate classes—"

"You quit the second lesson, didn't you?" I snorted.

She laughed and patted my arm. "I'm sure there's a good reason. Don't get me wrong, he's a piece of shit but I mean, if I had a face that pretty I wouldn't want it to get damaged either and that bitch sounds crazy."

"Yeah… she almost sounds like you, actually…"

Angela frowned but I could tell she was amused.

_**Thursday and Friday**_

Throughout the remainder of the week, the only contact I had with Mr. Cullen was through email. They were requests for scans, emails, and calls that he needed me to make. They were curt and concise so I didn't think anything of it. The only thing I did think of was how weird the office felt all alone. I'd been lonely when he was in his office but now that he was gone… I felt like I was living in a different planet. My lunch was eaten at my desk while I finished reading The Book Thief because I didn't want to walk and I didn't want everyone in the building to see my face.

That Friday was the first Friday I got to leave on time and it was kind of wonderful. Who am I kidding? My couch missed my ass as much as my ass missed my couch.

_**Saturday**_

I'd completely freaking forgotten about Jasper's party.

When Saturday rolled around, I got a text message from him reminding me that his birthday party was that night, I was a bit excited. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten out of the house to go see anyone besides Ang, who was going on a date instead of tagging along. My leg still hurt, but the bruise on my face was nearly a transparent pink. I got dressed that night in my favorite green dress, which looked like a retro, pleated thing with a gray belt, a pair of black tights that could hide the ugly bruising from my contusion and black flats.

My sweet cane winked at me on my way out of the door and I grabbed it, thinking of how big Jasper's house was. Well, big compared to my apartment but then again, some people's closets were the size of my place.

Jasper greeted me at the door with a flutter of his light pink lips, eyeing my cane and the slightly discolored shading of my cheek over and over again.

"Happy Birthday!" I squeaked out, wrapping my arms around his ribs while holding the dark green gift bag in my hand. When were were close together, I whispered, "I don't want to talk about it tonight."

He nodded and settled for shaking his head. "Fine," he grumbled in a low tone. "I'm glad you came."

"Bella! You came!" Alice, Jasper's wife, cheered. Alice Whitlock was the cutest thing on the planet and could be found driving her SUV and dog grooming trailer all over Orlando. "Jazzy-poo, let her in."

I bit my lip and mouthed "Jazzy Poo?" to him before he opened the door wide and ushered me in with a smirk. The dark speckle of a woman opened her arms out for a hug. "Hi Alice, thanks for having me."

"Of course! I haven't seen you in forever now that you're working for Edward." She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me tight. "I just finished telling him he needs to work less."

_Edward_. I'm not sure how I managed not to gag at the mention of his first name.

I snapped my gaze up at her words to see Mr. Cullen standing against the wide doorframe that led to their living room. I could see Jasper looking at me very intently from his spot to the right, almost as if he was judging my reaction to the bastard standing down the hall. Steeling my shoulders back, I swallowed back a frustrated sigh and forced a facial expression that could have been considered a smile.

"Isabella," that velvet soft voice murmured from ten feet away.

Alice scoffed and grabbed my arm, taking the gift bag from my grasp. "Isabella?" she snorted. "What do you want to drink, _Isa-bella_?" she mocked in a dry tone.

Limping out of the hallway with her, I caught Jasper shaking his head in Mr. Cullen's direction, opening his mouth but I couldn't hear what was said. I shouldn't have been surprised that he —Mr. Cullen — was there. I shouldn't have. Jasper pretty much said that they were really close friends but still. I shook myself out of it and focused on Alice asking me if I'd gotten a dog yet.

More people started showing up the longer I was there, filling the Whitlock house up to almost capacity. Keeping the couch warm for the entire night, I spoke to a few of Jasper's friends on and off while nursing a bottle of water. No one asked about my face or the cane that was resting against the couch next to me, which was a huge relief.

Hours later, after downing three bottles of water and talking to some guy named Peter for half an hour about the latest season of _True Blood_, I was on the verge of peeing on the couch. I found Jasper in the kitchen talking to a circle of friends and mouthed out "Bathroom?" to which he responded by flicking a finger upstairs.

I groaned, wondering why the hell this gigantic house didn't have a bathroom downstairs for me to use. The trek up the long staircase made my leg ache but I walked down the hallway, opening up random doors to find the bathroom. Seeing the light on underneath a closed door, I could hear a man's voice on the other side.

"I don't care what her father wants. I've been trying to keep him happy for so long that I'm done… No….No… I'm doing it… She brought this upon herself…No. No. No… Look, I'm at Jasper's party and I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'll call you soon…. Yes. I love you, too…Bye."

It took me about halfway through the one-sided conversation to figure out that it was Mr. Cullen on the phone, and I'd been too nosey to walk away. Under normal circumstances, I would have run back downstairs and walked up to make it seem like I wasn't just eavesdropping but I was moving like a turtle so it was pointless.

A split second later, the bathroom door was opening and the man I worked for, in all of his six-foot-two glory stepped out, rubbing a hand across his forehead like there was something there he wanted to erase. When he saw me just standing there, he stopped.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The pressure in my bladder reminded me of why I walked up those damn stairs, so I pointed at his stomach to gesture behind him. "I really need to use the bathroom."

He nodded and stepped around me to give me a clear path into the bathroom. I'm not really sure what drove me to tell him my decision, but maybe it was because I knew that I'd be stuck with him for some time and things were awkward enough. Any place away from work was even ground, wasn't it?I found myself turning around before closing the door to see him at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Cullen!"

"Isabella?" he replied in a kinder voice than I ever thought he could be capable of.

"I just want you to know that I'm pressing charges against Kate." I said, watching him scratch at his forehead while he listened.

He didn't say anything for the longest thirty heartbeats of my life, until he nodded. "Good."

_Good?_

And just like it was the story of his life — or the story of our failed and rotten work relationship — he left in silence.

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><p>Twitter me: http :  www . twitter . com / marianazapata_

My blog: http : / www . marianazapata . com


	15. Chapter 15

**My lovelies, sorry this has taken me a wee bit. I love this story but it kills me. So, I hope you guys enjoy the update. Thank you very, very much for your support and my bitching in previous chapters about reviews and PMs that give me a headache and kill my writing vibe. Let's filter out the negativity! Yes! And thank you, thank you, thank you for trusting me and continuing on this ride with me. No beta ever. Forgive my mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I do own this jerk.**

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><p>By the time Monday rolled around, I was numb.<p>

My life was typically very drama free. In high school, when girls go through their psycho, hormonal phases and went through boyfriends like a pair of pants— I didn't date. The boys at my school were a bunch of immature, pathetic losers that didn't interest me at all. Having only Angela as my one close friend afforded me the luxury of never having any high school angst. We've always been too laid back to care about the parties and popularity that were the birthplace of high school crap.

The only drama I experienced after graduating was when I started dating this guy named Eleazar and it turned out he had another girlfriend. Ang kicked him in the nuts for me and that was done.

So, the crap with Kate and Mr. Cullen was a new experience for me. It stressed me out, and it made me thank God that I'd avoided conflict for so long. I guess it was bound to happen eventually, and in this case, it made up for the long years I'd avoided it.

I spent Sunday with Angela, doing things that she thought would "make me feel better." It wasn't that I was _feeling bad_, but if anyone knew me inside and out, it was Ang. She could tell that everything that'd happened the last weekend had worn me down, and the idea that I was going to press charges against someone kind of made me feel crappy for some reason. Kate deserved everything she'd get, but I wished that it was someone else that was going to bake the justice pie.

Now that I'd gotten my first _really_ good paycheck, it didn't kill me inside to get a haircut that cost more than twenty bucks, get a pedicure, and buy some clothes. I wasn't rich by any means but when you're used to _barely_ making enough money to cover bills, even having a hundred bucks extra goes a long way. Having a few hundred extra was a freaking miracle.

Walking into the office Monday morning, using my cane with more ease, I didn't give a flying fuck what happened.

Well, unless Kate showed up.

I was just going to work and do what I needed to do in order to keep my job. At a quarter until eight, I set the coffee machine to work and started going through my emails. Mr. Cullen showed up promptly five minutes before eight and nodded at me while he had his face pressed against his BlackBerry. I tried to give him a smile but I probably looked bored.

After preparing his coffee, I limped my way over to his office, steadying the cup so that it didn't spill. He was sitting behind his desk like usual, staring at the computer screen intently until I set the cup on the last remaining coaster on his desk. I'd barely taken a step away from the desk when he cleared his throat.

"We have a meeting at ten with Caius and Marcus in Conference Room C," he warned me in a voice that on any other man could have made me flutter my eyelashes.

I nodded and hightailed it out of there as quickly as my bum leg could take me. I didn't bother asking him what the meeting was over because he'd probably just found out about it, otherwise I would've gotten an email from one of their assistants. Finishing up my morning duties, I waited until it was fifteen minutes till ten and started the walk to the room on the floor above ours with my notepad .

As fate would have it, I was waiting for the elevator when Mr. Cullen strode up next to me. It might have been a little immature of me to ignore him but I didn't care. I kept my eyes on the doors and my arms crossed over my chest with the notepad between skin and clothing.

"You aren't limping as much," he said lowly as soon as the elevator doors closed in front of us.

I couldn't help but think that he chose to talk to me when I couldn't walk off or pretend not to hear him. "It still hurts," I replied in an icy voice.

He made a weird noise in his throat but didn't say anything else on the walk to the the conference room. I'd only met Caius, the COO a couple of times before, and I'd never seen Marcus, the chairman of something that was too long to be easily remembered. Neither one of them were in the room at five minutes before ten, but I noticed that there were six seats so I was probably stuck sitting next to Mr. Cullen. He pulled up a chair to the right of the head of the table and then eyed the chair next to his like he intended for me to sit there.

"Take some notes for me, Isabella," he said as soon as I'd sat down next to him. He tilted his head just a bit to look at me out of the corner of his eye before sighing. "Please."

I looked down before rolling my eyes and uncapping my pen.

The next two hours took forever to drag by. Marcus and Caius came in with each of their assistants, one of which was in her early thirties and had breasts bigger than my head and the other was pretty and maybe in her early forties. The two just wanted more information on what had taken place in Jupiter and what the next few steps would be. According to Mr. Cullen, the company had taken a pretty significant impact in the form of several thousand dollars but their insurance would cover all of the loss.

Mr. Cullen stayed behind talking to the two older men after the meeting finished, but I looked at the other women who shrugged at me in return and followed me out of the conference room. The woman in her forties took an extra step toward me and smiled. "I'm Irina."

"I'm Bella. You work with Marcus?"

She nodded, her long, blonde hair swishing behind her. "Yes," she admitted before grimacing. "I was wondering who took crazy, old Cope's place."

"That would be me," I laughed even though I probably shouldn't have.

"Gosh, it was about time they got that badger out of here. She couldn't tell the difference between a BCC and CC," she snickered. Her voice lowered when she continued, "Is it true she finally quit when Edward told her he wasn't interested in being with her stepdaughter anymore?"

_Being with her stepdaughter?_

It bothered me how little I knew about Mr. Cullen and the strange work relationship he had with Mrs. Cope. If he'd been seeing her daughter, or stepdaughter for that matter, it would make sense that he might have let her get away with being useless. Maybe. But then again, most office rumors were complete bullshit. The ringing of the elevator doors brought me back to think about what Irina had asked me so I shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that she put in her two week notice and that there was something about her husband"

The slightly older blonde woman smirked. "Pfft, old—"

"Isabella!" Mr. Cullen called out while walking toward us.

Luckily for him, the other lady who had stepped in after us, pressed down on the button to keep the doors open. He stepped in and nodded at the two other women in the elevator.

"Hi Edward," Irina chirped up from her spot next to me.

"Hi Mr. Cullen," the other woman added in a curt, professional tone.

He smiled at them, and it seemed awkward, like the Grinch smiling after stealing kids' toys. "Irina, Rosalie."

I fought the urge to mime him saying their names in a whiney voice and settled for glaring at the illuminated numbers on the wall. Mr. Cullen's floor was on a lower level than the other two, and he let me step off first before I turned and waved just a bit at Irina before walking really slowly to the office. It was awkward as he slowed his step down to follow next to me. When we got to my desk, he made his way over to his area. The rest of the day went by like normal, answering calls, putting together a Powerpoint presentation for a meeting he had the next day.

Right after five-thirty, when I was logging off of my computer and getting my stuff together to leave for the day, Mr. Cullen walked in front of my desk and paused. His face was weary and tired, like he'd fought a long battle and lost.

"Isabella," he said in a soft voice that mirrored his facial expression.

I looked up and resisted the instinct that told me to roll my eyes. "Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

"I can't keep doing this with you anymore," he sighed. I straightened up my shoulders to hear what he was going to say. Several thoughts went through my head but he started talking and I couldn't process my thoughts. "Jasper just told me that if I don't fix this between us, he's going to reconsider our friendship, and he's my only real friend," he scrubbed the palm of his hand across his forehead. "I don't want you to hate me."

My hand went up before he could continue. My traitorous heart started beating fast at his words and I wasn't sure whether I was frustrated that it took an ultimatum for his to decide he wanted to _fix_ things or whether I was just PMSing and trying to find a reason to get annoyed. "Mr. Cullen, I'll talk to Jasper. You don't have to be nice to me because he wants you to. If you don't like me that's fine. I get it—"

"You think I don't like you?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

I snickered because his level of ignorance always seemed to amaze me. "Can I tell you something without getting fired since it's after five?" He nodded. "You're rude, cold, and at best, you don't care about me at all. You think I'm a liar and a bad person, when I'm not any of those things. I don't want want fake people in my life." The last sentence was enunciated more than I'd intended for it to be but it was my truth.

He blinked at me, the expression on his face going from weary to something strange, something that made me feel like I'd just thrown a glass of cold water on him. Those green eyes that could've been beautiful were focused on the ceiling, and then he turned on his heel but didn't walk away. Mr. Cullen stood with his back to me, suddenly making me feel like crap. I'd never been mean to anyone besides Lauren but she gave as good as she got. _Damn it!_

"I'm sorry," I pretty much whispered, feeling my stomach knotting. I knew I was apologizing for saying the truth but didn't that make me as bad as him? He hurt my feelings and now I'd just hurt his. Even though a normal person would've said that they didn't mean what they said, I didn't want to be a liar. I just didn't want to be a total asshole.

Mr. Cullen shook his head before turning to look at me with a clenched jaw. He waved his hand around like he was dismissing me. "Don't apologize. It's true." He shook his head again and laughed this bitter sounding thing that scraped nails against my insides. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swan. I'm sorry that I take my frustrations out on you, I don't hate you. Not at all."

"Mr. Cullen—"

His phone started ringing right then, making him grunt. After fishing it out of his pocket, he mumbled something under his breath when eyeing the screen. "I need to get this," he said in a low voice.

A part of me wanted to wait and see what he said, but the other half didn't care at all. In the end, thirty seconds later, I grabbed my purse and left while he talked on his phone, those green eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.

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><p><strong>I hate to sound like a broken record to those who read my other stories, but I'm incredibly excited and feel the need to tell the world that my book, Lingus (formerly known as I Love Mr. North) is available as an e-book for Kindle through Amazon! *shoots off fireworks* Feel free to check it out here (according to my friend's text message, "my panties are wet reading your book" bahahaha. I died.):<strong>

http:/www(dot)amazon(dot)com/Lingus-ebook/dp/B007C8IFXW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1330132451&sr=1-1


	16. Chapter 16

**__**Holy shit sticks, I got this chapter done in record time. Thank you all for your amazing, supportive words. You have no idea how much they mean to me and how inspiring they are. Thank you! I'm still sucking at reviews but I hope you all know how much they're appreciated. No beta as always. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but the rest of this is mine.

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><p><em><strong>Thursday<strong>_

It wasn't that I was intentionally trying to avoid Jasper but he thought I was.

We were busy—and by _we_ I mean Mr. Cullen and I—he had more meetings than I figured was humanly possible and when we weren't in meetings, I was conjuring some Powerpoint presentations out of my ass every day. It didn't help that while his demeanor toward me was nicer—and I used that term very loosely—he was still the same picky bastard.

_Isabella, this looks exactly the same as the last one._

_Isabella, the background looks like vomit._

_Isabella, that font reminds me of something a gang member has tattooed._

I wanted to murder him. I mean, who cared? Really? Who cared?

Mr. Cullen.

I swore to Angela that I was going to become a freelance Powerpoint presentation creator if this job didn't work out. She thought I was kidding, but I really wasn't. I started looking up websites that I could post my services on but quickly dropped that idea into a bucket. Fuck Powerpoint. When I graduated college, I never wanted to see another presentation in my life again. Ever.

So when Jasper called me on Thursday to schedule a meeting with Mr. Cullen for the next day, his exasperated tone was like sandpaper to my skin.

"I've called you about six times," he said in a flat voice.

I sighed into the phone, balancing it between my shoulder and head while I typed in the meeting to our online calendar. "I know, we've just been really busy. I'm sorry. "

"You have my cell phone number, Bella," he reminded me, sighing into the receiver.

Grumbling in my throat, I lowered my voice as I remembered that Mr. Cullen was in his office with the door open. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I talked to legal yesterday and they got all of the case information from me as well as the officer's number so that they can start proceedings against _her_." I don't know why I hissed out the _her_ but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Good, and when do you have to go back to Jupiter to talk to the officer?" he asked.

"I'm going this weekend with Angela. We're making a trip out of it." I heard Mr. Cullen banging around his drawers in his office. "I feel like such a chump."

"Bella," he grumbled before pausing. It sounded like he threw something at the door to closer it. "I'd kick her ass myself if I could. I can't tell you how many times Alice has volunteered to go to the country club and as she says _put a cap in her ass. _Look, what she did was unforgivable considering…" he trailed off like he remembered whatever was on his tongue should not have been passed onto me. It made sense. I knew without a doubt in my mind that he was much more aware of the connection between Mr. Cullen and Kate than I was. I had nothing, while he had everything. I couldn't be mad at him for valuing his friend's privacy even though I would have liked for him to spill the details. "You're doing the right thing, Bella. Don't forget that."

"Yeah, you're right but still." I finished saving the calendar addition and pressed my fingertips to my temples. "It sucks."

Jasper groaned. "It's fine. Look, I need to get going but Alice and I are going out on Saturday, come with us and bring Angela."

"I don't know—"

"You have nothing better to do and you know it. I'll call you Saturday with details, Bella. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

The phone was hung back onto the cradle a second later and I busied myself by opening up a memo that Rosalie, the assistant I'd met a few days back, sent. I could hear Mr. Cullen in his office but moments later, he appeared standing in the door way. Wearing a pale gray suit with a black shirt and black tie, he had his hands behind his back, looking like more of a small boy than a man despite the grim line of his lips.

It didn't surprise me that he didn't bring attention to himself in the usual ways but rather, waited for me to acknowledge him. There had been small differences in his social skills when I was concerned. He'd used the word please when asking me to do something every once in a while, he'd nodded at me in greeting for three mornings in a row, and said goodbye in the same way. He was still a complete dick when on the phone or if something didn't go his way, but Rome wasn't built in a day. And I wasn't willing to wait decades for it to go up either.

"Isabella?" he called from the door, probably getting exasperated waiting for me to say something to him.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

He took two steps out of the doorway, his green eyes locked on my desk like he was in some sort of power struggle with it. "I ordered lunch from McCormick's and I'm too busy to go pick it up." Those brilliant irises lifted to meet mine and I swear it looked like he was fighting the urge to raise an eyebrow but maybe not. I'd become used to expecting the worst from him.

Knowing what he was requesting, I nodded and grabbed my purse and keys. "I'll be right back then." I said, limping around my desk. I couldn't complain because I figured it was part of my job and what good what it be to whine? I wouldn't get anything out of it.

Mr. Cullen stayed in place, frozen as I walked passed him but I heard him very clearly when he said, like a child speaking for the first time, "Thank you."

A part of me was expecting to see hell frozen over when I pulled out of the parking garage.

_**Friday**_

When I finally got a chance to glance at the clock after spending two hours on the phone with the general manager down at the main warehouse in Jupiter, my ear was throbbing and I had a violent urge to puke. Not all of the orders that had been placed more than a week before had been filled and he was missing invoices that Mr. Cullen couldn't live without, and according to the asshole in the office directly behind me, I couldn't get off the phone until things were fixed.

Noticing that it was ten minutes before the meeting that Jasper, Mr. Cullen, and the manager over the accounting department were having, I grabbed my legal pad and walked slowly to the door to my left. Popping my head in, I could see the man that pushed me harder than an Olympian's coach, typing away on his computer.

"The meeting in conference room B starts in ten minutes," I reminded him.

He responded by nodding quickly, which only made me shrug and start walking to get there. It'd take me longer because my leg was still aching, less than it had been before, but I still avoided walking as much as possible. Fortunately, that conference room was on the floor directly below ours and was also right off the elevator exit so I didn't have to walk too far. I couldn't help but think of Mr. Cullen for a brief moment because with the exception of the day before and having to walk to meetings, he'd kept me off my feet a lot. He was gone more often than usual, on what I could only assume were runs to drop off things that he would normally have me take.

The elevator ride was short and the ten steps into the conference room were even shorter, having been to enough meetings with Mr. Cullen, I knew which seats he preferred to sit in and went and plopped down into the one right next to it. No one was in there yet, giving me time to sigh in appreciation for the minute I'd get of quiet time. What I didn't expect was to hear the same nasally voice that had made me want to turn into Hannibal Lecter for a year.

"Bella Swan?" that grainy voice that reminded me of hell on earth squeaked.

I turned my head to face the direction where the blonde was standing with a scowl already in place. "Lauren."

She looked the exact same she always did. Like a total slut. Her eyebrows were up to her hairline like I was a ghost, but I could tell that her teeth were clenched together. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Working?" I snapped back, slightly proud of myself for not losing my edge with her.

"You got fired, " Lauren growled, planting her hands on her hips.

I couldn't help but smirk. "I didn't get fired."

"Are you stupid? You got fired, Bella. You went bye-bye," she said the last two words in a sing-song voice.

"Oh god," I rolled my eyes, laughing. As much as Mr. Cullen drove me insane, he was no Lauren. I don't think the world could handle another Lauren. One person that stupid was enough in the universe.

She took a couple of steps toward me, narrowing those evil eyes in my direction. "I haven't seen you in forever and you're still the most annoying bitch in the universe."

Before I could even open my mouth to respond to her words, a throat cleared from behind her. I didn't have a reason to freeze but she did right before heavy footsteps sounded through the room and the familiar bronze head of hair I'd grown immune to, appeared over Lauren's head.

"Ms. Mallory," the low voice that I heard all day seemed deeper than usual.

She didn't even bother to turn and look at him, instead waiting for Mr. Cullen to appear next to her before stopping. His arms were crossed over the broad, fitted navy pinstripe suit he had on. The look on his face reminded me of bottled venom. Lauren's mouth went a little slack before she smiled a forced grin. "Hello sir."

I couldn't even try to figure out how he knew her name because I was so enthralled by the two people in front of me.

Mr. Cullen's jaw flexed, that fine, square boned angle moving under his light, blondish red scruff. "Would you care to repeat what you just told Ms. Swan?"

"Excuse me?" she squeaked out. Her eyes were huge and the size of her smile grew even bigger, like she was trying to play off what she'd just said.

Was it wrong for me to be so amused by the fact that she had gotten caught? In front of the CFO? The CFO who happened to be my boss? I didn't think so. The man might hate me, or in his words _not at all_, but…

He raised an eyebrow and said nothing for the longest minute ever. "Would you care to repeat what you just told my assistant in front of me this time?"

Her eyes flickered over to mine and I could imagine Lauren asking herself if this was real life. "Your assistant?" she sputtered out instead.

"My assistant." He repeated, making my internal organs cheer on the ghastly face that seemed to come over Lauren.

"Umm…"

Mr, Cullen took a deep breath, keeping his gaze steady on the woman standing in front of him. "Ms. Mallory, I'd like to remind you of etiquette and who you're speaking to. If I ever hear you speak to Ms. Swan, or any employee, in that manner again, I'm sure Mr. Whitlock wouldn't mind putting you at the top of the list for yearly reviews."

My mind cued the imaginary whip my jerk of a boss had in his hand.

When she nodded and walked over to the other side of the table, reminding me too much of a dog with its tail between its legs, I knew I was a hypocrite. I hated Mr, Cullen being an asshole to me and bossing me around, he'd used similar icy tones with me countless times before, and I rolled my eyes when he was a dick to people over the phone, but right then, I valued it more than I every could've imagined possible. It wasn't that I minded putting Lauren in her place and the chances of seeing her again were slim but still. It seemed like a good checkmate moment for all the attempts she'd tried in the past to belittle me when I was a temp.

Time seemed to stop when I happened to barely shift my gaze over while a smirk covered my face, and caught Mr. Cullen's eyes. He was looking downward with his phone clasped tightly in a palm but his grass colored eyes met mine out of the corner. What surprised me was the tiny, little, weeny sized smile on the edge of his lips when he caught my amused expression.

I would later on label that our first moment of some deranged form of teamwork.

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><p>You can follow me on twitter: www (dot) twitter (dot) com  marianazapata_

Orrrr you can always check out my blog: www (dot) marianazapata (dot) com -there's a link on there to join a list where you can add yourself to get updates and teasers for any new stuff I have going on.

xoxo, mariana


	17. Chapter 17

Hello, my angels! It's been a long while, I know. Real life has put a bit of a damper on some of my fanfiction writing, so I've taken a step back until my juices come visit again. I'll probably post more about this on my blog later. I have to give my idea-machine, KreativeKreature, a huge thank you for her help on this chapter. It wouldn't have gotten done without her! On that note, I've started _another_ story in my time off. The Golden Giants Tour is a fun one that I have quite a bit written out in advance, so head on over there if you're interested. There's also a contest called Pop the Question that I've entered. Voting is open until March 31st, so check out the wonderful entries and vote for your favorites! Thanks for being patient guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but everything other than the names are mine.

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><p>Every once in a while, Angela and I liked to veg out watching this show called <em>1,000 Ways to Die.<em>

As of Monday afternoon around 4, I was seriously considering e-mailing a TV station with the idea for a show called _1,000 Ways to Get Fired_. I had the perfect person in mind for the first episode. She would set the gold standard for the show.

It was no surprise when I officially deemed Lauren Mallory as the biggest idiot on the face of the planet currently, and quite possibly the crowning champ for the past and the future, as well.

What seemed the most ridiculous was that it all started with a simple mistake and an email. Two completely innocent things that could have been swept under the rug and never known about if they wouldn't have occurred at the same time. But that's not the way life works, and I'm sure months later—actually, probably hours later when I talked to Angela, I'd laugh about it.

I'd been in the middle of preparing a memo for the old bats upstairs when Mr. Cullen's infamous "Isabella!" bellowed from his office.

Over the weekend I'd tried my best to relax as much as possible on the trip to Jupiter. There was very little that sun and sand couldn't heal, and that included my constant frustrations with work and the whole Kate situation. Talking to Officer Smexy—as Angela had started calling him—had been fine. I'd given him the information for my lawyer, and he had me sign some paperwork. Within an hour, we were out of the police station and heading for our hotel. Ang had done her best to make me forget about the madness that was Mr. Cullen and Kate.

I don't even think that I rolled my eyes at him calling my name that very first time, a miracle on its own.

"I need you to redo the monthly spreadsheet before my meeting," he said as soon as I'd stepped into his office. Pausing only a couple feet away, my teeth began grinding on their own, negating the absence of irritation I'd felt fifteen seconds before. I knew exactly what spreadsheet he was talking about. He'd asked me to do it last thing on Friday afternoon, and I know I'd done it right.

"What was wrong with it?" I tried not to growl out. 0 to 60. That's how quickly he managed to annoy the crap out of me.

Those green eyes that seemed to haunt my nightmares glanced up from whatever file he was looking at on his desk. His brow was relaxed, which I'd learned quickly enough was a sign that he was annoyed. With me. "I don't like the order of the variables on the right side. Alphabetize them instead."

Maybe it was because my period was just a few days away, but I couldn't keep myself from rolling my eyes at the man that I'd briefly removed from my Shit List for the weekend. "I've never alphabetized it before though."

"Well, I'd like for you to alphabetize it this time, Isabella," he bit out. A second later, he seemed to exhale a shaky breath and blinked. "Please."

I'd opened my mouth to say something in return but thought better of it. I nodded at him and turned around to head back to my desk to fix the stupid file. It would only take a split second to fix what he wanted, but still. How many times had I not done a spreadsheet for him in the same way with rare changes? Mr. Cullen was an enigma. A painful, hemorrhoid-type of enigma. Fixing the stupid file and sending it back to him, I'd stood up to go make a copy of an expense report at the same time that he was coming out of his office.

"Can you take this down to the mail room?" he asked me in the middle of thrusting two large envelopes in my direction. "I need these shipped out right now before the next drop-off." Eyes glanced at the shiny Omega watch on his wrist. "In six minutes."

Taking the envelopes from him, I nodded and completely forgot about the stupid copy as I walked as quickly as possible to the mail room on the first floor. The jerk was lucky that my leg only briefly ached by that point. I knew Mr. Cullen's meeting was starting in a couple of minutes but I didn't care to wait for him to catch up so we could ride the elevator together. The doors had barely opened when I caught Lauren's ash blonde head directly in my line of view.

It almost seemed like the dance of death as we circled each other; I was going out while she went in. Neither one of us said anything, but I didn't waste time looking at her longer than I needed to. I only had a couple of minutes before the mail would get picked-up and I needed to drop off his unknown envelopes before then. Otherwise, the man who seemed to know everything,would also know that I didn't do what he said.

God forbid.

The visit down in the mail room took longer than I expected when Mr. Banner, the supervisor, started asking me about a binding project I'd left with him on Friday afternoon. We had to go through the packet I'd left so that he could see exactly what size and color binding _Asshollen_, as I'd started calling him in my head, wanted. I'd barely made it to my office when I saw the flashing red light of my phone mocking me from several feet away. Picking it up to check the messages on there, I listened to the first one while unlocking my computer.

"_Ms. Swan this is Mrs. Armstrong down in Human Resources, I expect you in my office the moment you get this message."_ the first voicemail repeated.

I frowned and deleted it, checking the next one. "_Bella! It's Jasper," _his voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "_What the fuck were you thinking? Call me."_

My hand stayed suspended in mid-air, waiting to press the key to delete the message. What the hell was going on? I looked around my desk and caught a couple of Post-It notes moved to the opposite side of my desk. I never moved Post-Its to my left because I was right-handed. Holding the phone between my shoulder and cheek, I finished unlocking my computer before pressing the button to listen to the next voicemail.

"_Ms. Swan, your email was extremely inappropriate and I'm beyond offended—"_

It felt like someone had taken a shit in my gut. What the hell? Clicking into my email, my stomach knotted when I saw that I had thirty messages in my inbox. Within the fifteen seconds that it took me to scan through the subjects, I'd gotten five more. Opening up the most recent one that said _FWD: Edward Cullen's Truth_, my mouth went dry. I didn't even bother reading what the person had sent me, instead I scrolled down to look at the message below it.

**From: Swan, Isabella**

**November 20, 2011 13:14 EST**

**Subject: Edward Cullen's Truth**

**Dear Company,**

**Our CFO is not only a world class ****ASSHOLE**** but gay to. He has a subscription to BEARS: The Male Catalogue that's sent to our office each month. **

**Always,**

**Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Executive Assistant to Mr. Cullen, CFO of Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5667**

The first thing that screamed at me wasn't that the email had been sent with my name, but instead the misspelling caught my attention first. The "to" stuck out like a sore thumb. I mean, _seriously? _The world had spell-check. The second thing that finally sunk in was the fact that the email _was_ sent from my name.

Holy fuck.

I suddenly shuddered as the possible implications of the email settled over my skin thickly. Standing up, I almost started running out of the office, trying to find my son-of-a-bitch boss. Going to him seemed like the most logical thing to do. I was innocent, damn it. But I'd barely made it passed the glass doors when I saw him striding toward me, fists clenched tightly at the sides of his sleek pinstriped suit. He stopped in front of me, a nerve in his jaw twitching incessantly.

"Mr. Cullen—"

He raised a hand in my direction, beckoning me toward him. "Come on."

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but my lips just fluttered on their own, losing the words that had just been there. It took me a split second before I swallowed hard and tapped him on the back of his shoulder. "Mr. Cullen, I didn't do it."

He didn't even bother turning around to look at me, instead he pressed the button to the elevator so we could go up.

"I swear on my life that I didn't send that email out. I was downstairs in the mailroom—" My bills flashed before my eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Sure I wasn't Mr. Cullen's biggest fan but I would never send him, much less our entire company, an email like that. Never, ever, ever. I'd be smart enough to do it anonymously, hello.

Mr. Cullen scrubbed a hand through the back of his head, stepping into the elevator with me following him. The doors had just closed when he let out a long, drawn out exhale.

"Sir, I promise. I didn't do it," I squeaked out. I wasn't above begging for my job. I mean, I didn't want to work for him in the long-term but if I lost this position, then I was out of the company. _Shit!_

"I know you didn't," he finally said, facing the shiny doors ahead of him.

"You do?" I asked incredulously, feeling that knot in my belly loosen.

He nodded at the door, not bothering to look me in the eye. "Yes, Isabella."

I probably should've shut my mouth and just relished the fact that he knew I didn't write the email, but of course I didn't. "How do you know?"

"I know you know that too has a double O and—" he hesitated for a second before closing his mouth. Mr. Cullen made a strange sound deep in his throat. "We're going to the security office to find out who did."

The next hour was just.,. strange.

I'd always thought that Mr. Cullen didn't have a heart. He reminded me of a robot who thought he was a man but was unable to express and feel emotions, no matter how much he wanted to. But I could tell how much the email bothered him. I knew the look on his face when he was annoyed, pissed off, and as content as he ever was. The man didn't know what carefree or happiness was, so he never expressed those emotions.

But in those long minutes in the security office, with James looking through videos and more videos of the right angle to our floor, I could see something else etched on Mr. Cullen's handsome but strained face. I thought for a moment that he was _embarrassed_. Huh.

When a slow black and white image of Lauren slipping into our office showed up on the screen, I fucking yelped.

"That bitch," I muttered too loudly.

James and Mr. Cullen both turned to look at me and I swear to God, I think the asshole was slightly amused by my outbreak. Either that or he had heartburn, I couldn't be sure. Sure enough, an image of Lauren trying to be a ninja as she made her way toward my desk, opening up drawers quickly before typing away on my computer. I wracked my brain trying to remember whether I'd locked my computer or not… and I thought about that copy I'd meant to grab.

Fuck nuts.

"I don't think I locked my login," I admitted to them. I felt like a total asshole. Sure it wasn't _me _that had sent the email but if I would've done what compliance required, then none of us would be in this situation. There wasn't anything wrong with being gay—if that's what Mr. Cullen really was—but at the end of the day I knew how much he appreciated his privacy and his respect. Sure it was a lie, but I knew how people were. They caught onto a rumor and wouldn't let go. I couldn't even begin to imagine what people were saying about him. Sure, I could call him an asshole and a dick but that's because he was my boss. Didn't I solely get that honor and pleasure? "I'm sorry, Mr. Cullen."

He frowned, tucking a palm into the pocket of his fitted suit. "It isn't your fault," he said in a low tone that seemed so opposite his normal one.

James had started burning copies of the video onto several disks, and I could only imagine where they would end up. I bit my lip and looked Mr. Cullen in the eye for the first time in what seemed like forever. I remembered all too clearly the little smile he'd given me when he'd stood up for me with Lauren and it made me feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. If he wouldn't have said anything that idiot wouldn't have gone after him, right?

Then again, she had to be pretty fucking stupid to think she could get away with sending an email like that and not getting caught.

_Ugh_. "I'm really sorry. You have no idea."

He shook his head in response, looking back at James while he finished. Mr. Cullen didn't cut me another glance. "It's not your fault," I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch—making me think of him as a fraction less of a robot. "I have a feeling you would have been more creative than Ms. Mallory."

Maybe Satan's son knew me better than I expected.

To top off my day and the nauseous feelings that had overtaken my nervous system earlier, Lauren Mallory's dumb ass was escorted out of the building by security after getting her ass owned—Jasper's words, not mine—by Mr. Cullen and a member of the legal department.

In the words of my beloved Angela when things went her way, "Booyah!"

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><p>Twitter me: marianazapata_<p>

Blog me: www(dot)marianazapata(dot)com


	18. Chapter 18

**Hellooo there, my old friends. Here's another update. Thank you all for your kind words, I appreciate them greatly! I know you guys have a lot of questions, but I promise everything will be answered in time! A puzzle! Remember! :) xoxo**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but TDward is mine.**

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><p>"<em>Wait.<em> How much?" I asked Janet, the lady in Human Resources, to repeat herself.

She set her speckled gaze on me before repeating the amount of the offer.

If it wouldn't have been rude, I would've snorted, and then asked her to tell me _again_ how much money the position paid. Two days had gone by since Lauren got fired. Exactly an hour after she was escorted out of the office, the thought came to.

_I can go work for Jasper_.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. And the pay made me whimper. It was more than what I'd been making as a temp, but it was a lot less than what I was making as Mr. Cullen's assistant. A lot less. But I knew what I wanted. I knew what I valued the most. This job was a means to an end for me. I was going to finish my degree and even though I'd been expecting my pay to make up for the difference between my scholarships and grants for school tuition, was being the money worth being treated like a pile of dirt?

I didn't think so.

Janet nodded when I gave her my answer and explained that said she'd call me in a few days after she spoke to Mr. Cullen. She did add in there that there was a hiring freeze going on. A hiring freeze meant that there might be some issues about me switching over in a timely manner but hell, I could wait as long as I knew there was some light at the end of the tunnel.

The light at the end of the tunnel made me skip back to the office.

I sent Jasper an email telling him what I'd done the moment I made it back to my desk. Mr. Cullen was already in his office and didn't say anything to me for half the morning, surprisingly. It was around lunch time that he came out of his office, one hand tucked into the front pocket of his pinstriped gray suit.

"Can you accompany me to a lunch meeting?" he asked.

It was another one of those moments that I wasn't sure whether he was actually asking me or simply telling me that we were going. So I shrugged and nodded. Business lunches were free, right? Grabbing my purse, I logged off my computer and followed after him. He held the door open for me as we made our way to the elevator and pressed the button to go to the bridge that linked our building to the parking lot. To no surprise, we didn't talk on our way.

A black Jaguar a few feet away beeped to unlock, so I wasn't surprised when we stopped in front of it. I was surprised when he walked over to the passenger door and pulled the door open. I stood there, like I wasn't sure whether his actions were a trick or not.

I must have taken too long because he quirked and eyebrow at me. "Are you coming?"

I looked at him and blinked slowly. He curled his lips behind his teeth. Five steps later, I was sliding into the smooth leather seat and Mr. Cullen was closing the door for me. He'd barely slid into his own seat and put the car into reverse when he let out a shaky sigh. "Have I been that bad to you?" he wondered.

"What do you mean?" I asked him suspiciously.

"You don't even trust me to open the door for you?" his words sounded pained, incredulous, filled and lined with frustration at himself I could only assume.

What was I going to say? _Duh?_ So I didn't say anything.

"Isabella, you can tell me," he pleaded.

I made a weird noise in my throat. "No, I guess."

He settled for a nod before running a hand through his dark hair. He let out a shaky breath and nodded one more time. I didn't know what to say and I opted for saying nothing. I knew how I felt and I wasn't going to sugarcoat it.

But I still didn't want to be a total bitch. That wasn't me. "Thank you for… trying."

"Isabella." The side of his lips quirked up just the slightest. He wiped a hand down the front of his face. The exhale that blew out of his full lips seemed like three breaths worth. "I know that I'm—," his dark green eyes flickered over to me, "an asshole. I'm not an easy man to work with and I work you hard, but it's only because I know you can handle it. Your potential is limitless and maybe I push you too much—"

I couldn't say anything. It felt like I'd been stabbed in the chest. Mr. Cullen, the biggest asshole in the universe, the man who ripped people's asses to shreds, was… was… kind of, sort of apologizing to me?

"—but you're a good employee. I'm sorry if I don't tell you that enough," he snickered to himself more than me, I think. _Tell me that enough? Ha! _"Or at all," he added like he'd read my mind.

My jaw dropped open. I swear to you a fly could've flown in there if the windows in his car had been down. Was this real life? Did he just—did he just say something nice, and then kind of crack a joke?

"Isabella?"

I snapped my mouth closed at the same time my face flushed hot. "Umm… that means a lot, Mr. Cullen," I squeaked out because it did. It almost didn't seem real. For months this man had made it seem like he was built with a skin made of titanium and a spine reinforced in steel. Things like pretty words weren't ingrained in his system.

I thought.

A few minutes later, he was pulling in front of a restaurant, right by a booth that spelled valet on the front of it. The man opened the door for me and helped me out before jogging around to take the keys from Mr. Cullen. I waited for him on the curb, eyeing the entrance to the ritzy looking restaurant we were eating at. It made me a little nervous because I wasn't used to eating somewhere nicer than like Chili's or Applebee's. My parents didn't have a ton of money when I was growing up, and I sure as hell was barely making ends meet from the moment I moved out. Fancy places were way, way, _way_ out of my budget.

As soon as he stopped next to me, he dipped his head to my ear while we walked toward the door. "I need you to do something for me," he asked in a lowered voice. I nodded in acceptance. "Please don't tell him that we weren't just at another meeting."

I wanted to ask him who we were meeting with and why the man would assume we were at another meeting beforehand, but the hostess had recognized Mr. Cullen the moment we walked in and steered us toward a table all the way in the corner of the restaurant. A man a few decades older than me was already sitting at the table we were heading to. His hair was blonde but peppered with silver, and his suit reminded me a lot of Mr. Cullen's own tailored suits. As soon as we were within walking distance, the man looked up at us and smiled this big, warm smile that seemed at odds with his expensive aura.

"Son," he said, standing up.

_Son?_

Mr. Cullen closed the distance between them before giving him a hug. "Father," he responded.

Holy shit.

I was in front of big daddy Cullen. The reason I had a job. The majority owner of MSC.

"This is my assistant, Isabella," Mr. Cullen, my direct boss, introduced us directly. "Isabella, this is my father, Mr. Cullen."

Big daddy Cullen stuck out his hand to me, giving me my own special, warm smile. "Isabella, a pleasure. Please call me Carlisle," he chuckled. "Mr. Cullen makes me feel like an old man."

I snorted quietly, thinking about how much his son seemingly enjoyed getting called his last name. But I smiled at him and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Carlisle. You can call me Bella, all of my friends do," I said without a second thought.

"I do like Bella a lot more," he agreed, slipping his hand away before resuming his seat at the table.

Mr. Cullen stayed standing until I made an effort to sit, and he pushed my chair in for me before sitting down himself. He eyed me warily before moving his attention back to his father. "How are you?" he asked him.

Carlisle smiled. "I'm fine. I've been busy with the new charity your mom is a chair of. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Busy as always," he responded in that same cool tone he shared with everyone.

"Busy with things that don't matter?" the blonde man raised an amused eyebrow.

Mr. Cullen shrugged in a way that made it seem like the question and answer were an old thing, a ritual that had grown frail with time. "It's fine."

Carlisle whistled low in response. "Edward."

Mr. Cullen cleared his throat and in a not-so-subtle manner threw me a side glance meant for his father to acknowledge.

"You were just at a meeting?" the elder Cullen asked after getting the clue his son had left him.

He nodded and went on some bullshit spree about an imaginary meeting we'd gone to. I couldn't understand why he bothered to lie to his father about where we'd been. Why he would go out of his way to feed the lie to him but his father went with it, asking him questions that layered one lie over another. A lengthy conversation followed that I couldn't keep up with. We ordered our food and ate quietly through one MSC question after another.

We'd finished with our meal when Carlisle turned in my direction. His blue eyes were kind as they took me in. "Are you the same Bella I've heard so much about?"

My face went hot all over and I giggled nervously. "If it's nice things that you heard, then yes, that would be me." I snorted just a bit. "I think."

"Only good things, sweet girl," he smiled. "Jasper speaks very highly of you."

I couldn't help but notice that he didn't mention that his son spoke highly of me.

The nerves that had taken residence in my chest seemed to fade away a little. Carlisle Cullen's smile was disarming. "That' a relief."

"He mentioned that you're in school," he continued.

"I am, or, was. I'm just taking a break right now until next semester," I explained, hoping he wasn't going to ask _why _I wasn't currently enrolled. How embarrassing would it be to tell a man that wouldn't blink an eye at a two hundred dollar steak that I couldn't afford my tuition?

"What are you studying?"

"General business."

He nodded and smiled at me again. "Do you have any long-term plans?"

Mr. Cullen groaned. "Dad."

Carlisle shot me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Bella. My wife tells me I'm a bit on the inquisitive side."

I looked over at my boss whose lips were set into a grim line of possible disapproval. He eyed me cautiously at first, and then gave me that same teensy smile he'd shared when he'd first put Lauren in her place. "Inquisitive isn't exactly the right word to use," he sighed, speaking to his father but looking at me.

"Are you telling me that I'm nosey?" Carlisle chuckled.

"I don't think that's what he's saying," I assured him before really thinking about it.

The chairman of MSC slapped his hand against the table gently, winking at his son. "I didn't think so either."

The rest of the meal went by lightly, with Mr. Cullen paying for our food. The father and son said goodbye. Carlisle told me that he'd see me again soon. He even made me swoon a little when he called me "darling."

"My father seemed to like you," he said when we got into the car.

"I liked him. He seems really nice himself."

He nodded in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "He's a great man."

I wanted to ask him how his father was such a warm guy while he was ice in the flesh.

But I settled for something else. "Why did you bring me along?"

"Oh," he stuttered. Edward Cullen, master of the assholes, stuttered. "I needed a buffer with him. There are some things that he'll stay away from if we aren't alone."

Honesty reeked from his words. I figured I'd be pushing it if I asked what exactly he didn't want to talk about but…

"He'd want to ask me about Kate."

I sucked in a breath and nodded. "I see."

Neither one of us said anything on the remainder of the trip back. We rode up the elevator together and only when we'd reached my desk did he pause at the door. "Thank you for accompanying me."

"No problem," I told him genuinely. I'd been way better than tearing up the food I had stashed in the refrigerator.

Mr. Cullen gave me another one of his tiny, awkward smiles before going into his office.

Not five minutes later, while I was checking my email in peace did I hear his footsteps before he did something I'd never seen: he slammed his door shut. Loud.

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><p><strong>Trust. <strong>

**Twitter me: www(dot)twitter(dot)com/marianazapata_**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi guys. Here's another update. I'm think in a few weeks I'll be able to start posting more regularly, so thank you guys for being patient with me! You're great!**

**This was going to be longer but then it'd probably take me another week to post so... meh. Enjoy. I'll post the other half when it's ready.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but this story is mine.**

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><p>Three weeks had passed since I'd signed up to move back over to Jasper's department. Twenty-one days of waiting, waiting, and waiting some more, hoping to hear a solid date for my transfer. One hundred and thirty-five works hours of dealing with a man who lit me up like no other and only made me pray that time would go faster.<p>

He'd been on some sort of bipolar rampage since he found out that I requested to go back to my old boss. One minute, he was his normal, dick-ish self, bossing me around, asking me for the moon. The next minute, he was actually pretty polite and thoughtful—a shock, I know. Then there was that third minute, when he seemed like he was a million miles away, lost in a galaxy that I'd never heard of.

Needless to say, it gave me whiplash.

I became an expert as recognizing his moods by the way he sat, by the way he breathed, and even by the shape of his mouth.

Angela had laughed and said she'd give her right tit to become a _Cull_-expert like I was, but I told her I'd give both my boobs to not be. While I admired Mr. Cullen's attention to detail, his strive for excellence, and his way of handling a million things at once, I sometimes wondered how the hell he was able to handle so much without failure. I could barely handle my life and responsibilities without adding more pressure on top of it.

So, a couple days before Christmas, when we were scheduled to go to a convention in Atlanta where Mr. Cullen was giving a speech and planning on sitting through other workshops, I had to pull out my big girl panties. Three days of one-on-one time with Edward Cullen. I would've rather started my period but oh well.

The flight over was fine. We only spoke a few dozen words when he asked me if I needed help putting my carry-on overheard and when he needed to stop at the restroom on the walk to pick up our rental. We made it through the introductory talk the night we arrived, and split up to go to bed afterward. The next day went by fine. More boring meetings that had me day-dreaming about going on vacation and a speaker who stuttered and spit every other word, were the only things that kept me upright in that uncomfortable chair.

On the last day of the convention, right in the middle of Mr. Cullen's speech, I started to feel funny.

When he sat down next to me a half hour later, the weird look on my face or maybe my posture must have told him something was going on because he leaned in close. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

I shrugged and pressed a hand against my belly button. I started feeling nauseous at some point and I was sweating from every pore on my body. _Freaking shit. _"Not really."

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"My stomach feels weird," I swallowed hard. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Mr. Cullen's bright green eyes narrowed. "You had a burger for lunch, right?" I nodded. "Maybe it was bad?" I shrugged.

Fifteen minutes later, the pain by my belly button got worse. I knew I was sweating, my head started hurting from how nauseous I was. The idea of focusing on the speaker twenty feet away was impossible. I kept sipping the water bottle I'd brought in with me but after a while, thinking about drinking it made me even more sick. Getting a stomach virus or food poisoning wasn't something I was unfamiliar with but usually I had the urge to go blow up the bathroom. In this case, I didn't want to.

"Isabella," he whisper-hissed at me, lightly tapping the leg I was bouncing. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

I shook my head, groaning when the pain flared. It hurt so bad I didn't even care that he just asked whether I needed to go poo in different words. "No."

Mr. Cullen glanced at his watch and sighed. "This should be over in fifteen minutes, can you make it? I'll escort you upstairs afterward."

The idea of arguing with him about walking me to my room didn't even enter my brain. I felt awful, so I settled for a nod and a squeak of an "Okay."

When the meeting finished, I shot up in my seat and immediately regretted it. My hands shot to my stomach and I groaned. Mr. Cullen was on me a split second later, wrapping a long-fingered hand around my bicep. When I tried to take a step forward, I whimpered.

I can't really remember too much after that. I was in pain, I asked him to take me to the doctor but he refused. I was sitting down for a while, trying so hard not to cry when the paramedics showed up. I remembered Mr. Cullen arguing with one of them about something while he followed along me outside to the ambulance. I know they asked me questions and ran tests when we finally made it to the hospital. I had appendicitis, and after they made me sign forms giving them permission to fix me, I finally passed out.

When I woke up much, much later, I had tubes spiraling upward and my stomach ached. The room looked like every other hospital room I'd ever been in except no other room had Mr. Cullen sitting on a sofa, looking out of the window. It's a sign of how much I felt like shit that I was relieved to see him of all people. He must have heard me moving my hands around the bed because his eyes shifted over to me before he leaned forward and gripped the handrail right next to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning. "Do you need anything?"

I swallowed, feeling something like sand filling the column of my throat. When I opened my mouth nothing came out. Licking my dry lips with an equally dry tongue, I slowly moved my eyes around the room. "Thirsty."

Mr. Cullen made a face before nodding. "Let me see what I can do." And he was up and out a moment later.

I could hear him outside of my room bickering with someone a few minutes later. He came in scowling, eyes filled with frustration. "They won't let you have anything until the doctor comes to see you, but I think he should be by soon now that you're awake.

Some noise escaped my throat, all I wanted was some water or some ice cubes. Something. Anything. Ice cubes. I'd probably even swallow pee if I had the chance.

The man who only showed his emotions on leap years quirked a cheek in my direction. "We'll give him fifteen minutes and if he's not here, I'll go look for him."

I smiled at him, or at least I tried to, before nodding and dropping my head back against the bed. My mid-section hurt and I felt tired beyond words. Fifteen minutes after that, Mr. Cullen got up wordlessly and disappeared for some time before coming back with a young-looking man in a white coat who looked like he'd had better days and a nurse who had a facial expression that could kill. I'm sure it didn't help that Mr. Cullen was grimacing and rolling his eyes every other second while the doctor was in the room, asking me questions until he kicked out my boss to check the incisions that I didn't bother looking at. I probably should've felt shy that the man was looking at me without underwear, but I didn't. At all.

Once he left, the nurse brought ice chips in a cup that Mr. Cullen took away from her and spoon-fed me himself. His hand was shaky as he maneuvered each piece into my mouth. I felt so terrible, And the fact that it was Mr. Cullen taking care of me was mind-bending.

At some point, I looked out of the window to see that it was dark and it hit me that we were supposed to catch our flight back that night to make it home for Christmas Eve.

"What day is it?" I asked.

He looked over at me from his spot on the small couch, his legs extended out while he watched the television mounted on the opposite wall. "It's the twenty-fourth."

If I could've sucked in a breath, I would have, so I frowned instead. "It's Christmas," I told him like he didn't already know.

"Eve," he corrected me with another of those tiny smiles he shared on rare occasion.

"You missed your flight," I whispered.

He shrugged before sitting up, rolling the sleeves of his wrinkled blue shirt up. "I called your family already. When you feel up for it, let me know and I'll dial the phone for you." He sighed before reclining back. "We won't be home in time for Christmas, Isabella. I'm sorry."

I blinked at him, trying to understand what he was telling me. _We won't be home in time_ and _I'm sorry_. A small cynical part of me wondered if this was the same bastard who had lost his fucking marbles when he got to a meeting late because our printer messed up. Pushing the memory out of my head, I focused on what he was telling me right then.

"You're staying with me?"

Another shrug. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

I could've cried. I wanted to cry but there probably wasn't enough fluids in my body to do so. The idea of suffering through the next few days alone was a miserable one. The idea of suffering on Christmas alone was just down right depressing. While I was grateful that he'd called my parents, a tiny part of me was embarrassed. My parents weren't coming to see me because they couldn't afford the flights. I knew they were expensive being so last minute and so close to Christmas but still.

"You don't have to stay," I told him without thinking.

He raised a weary eyebrow. "Yes, I do."

I just looked at him another minute, too tired to argue and not really wanting to be left alone. Even if it was Mr. Cullen keeping me company.

The night was restless, filled with visits from doctors and nurses that made sure I was doing okay and my boss' endless questions directed at them. When I woke up at one point, he was gone but only for a little bit. He came back with coffee and asked me if I needed anything.

"I don't want you to miss Christmas with your family because of me," I whispered to him.

Those dark green eyes flickered with indecision. "I'm not missing anything."

"It's Christmas tomorrow," I reminded him.

Mr. Cullen leaned forward in his seat, eyeing the two towers on my other side. "You aren't staying here by yourself," he reiterated with conviction.

I just looked at him, and maybe it was just the fact that I was at my most vulnerable and tired but I wasn't going to fight with him. "Thank you." Two of the words I never figured he'd be hearing from me made their way out.


	20. Chapter 20

**Why, hello there. Another update in less than a month! Hooray! Now that TGGT is done, I should have time to post more often *throws confetti* Thank you all for your wonderfully kind words and encouragement through this little ditty. **

***I've had a few people ask if I'm moving my stories because of all the FFN crap going on with pulling stories. I'm not planning on going anywhere. If by some chance, I do get the yank then we'll figure it out, but check my profile for links to the millions of places you can reach me to find out in case it happens.***

**We continue!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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><p>They released me from the hospital around six at night.<p>

On Christmas Day.

In Atlanta.

It was bad enough that I'd gotten my appendix removed thirty-six hours before, and I was still in a good amount of pain. But according to the doctors, I was doing _remarkably_. Remarkably in my book would have been hiking a mountain and singing at the top of my lungs. As it was, I could barely walk from my bed to the bathroom in the hospital room without wincing and groaning in pain.

What topped everything off was the fact that I was now indebted to Mr. Cullen.

The son of a bitch, asshole, bipolar, Type-A prick had stayed with me constantly. Constantly. Well, besides an hour here and there when I napped. He never complained, not once rolled his eyes, or even gave me the tiniest hint that he was bothered by having to stay. He was still a jerk to pretty much every nurse and doctor that came in, but what else could I expect? I'd rather it be someone other than me.

"I got us rooms on the second floor," Mr. Cullen said as he pushed my wheelchair through the lobby.

I blamed the strange feeling in my chest on the medication I was on. A big part of me felt incredibly guilty that he was stuck spending the holiday here when he could've very well flown back home and flicked me off on the way. That's the kind of man I'd grown accustomed to working for.

So it was like fighting my instincts to trust him when he said it wasn't a big deal that he was staying.

That he was… thoughtful.

"I should probably go grab my things from the other room—," I started to reply, remembering that our reservation was set to be over on the twenty-third. Not the twenty-fifth. "The reservation—"

"Was already taken care of. I'm dropping you off in the new room while I go grab our things from the other ones."

The whoosh of "Thank you" slipped from my lips like someone was physically prying the gratitude from me.

Just like he had explained, he wheeled me into a brand new room—a better room. It was a suite that was much nicer than anything I'd stayed in before. He'd grabbed my keycard from the correct pocket I'd stashed it in, and I knew I'd never told him where it was, and left silently. I wheeled over to the bed and parked the chair just to the right of the mattress. It wasn't until I was forcing myself to get up at a snail's pace that I noticed the door next to the dresser across from the bed. It took me a couple minutes, but I was able to get out of the chair and get on top of the bed, groaning the entire time even though the frame wasn't elevated.

I drifted off to sleep, and at some point later on, the faint clicking sound of the door being closed woke me up. Mr. Cullen was walking into the room, pulling my suitcase and his behind him. He cast a wary glance toward me, hoisting my carry-on onto the pedestal that the hotel provided.

The nervous pull of lips came at me suddenly. "I'm going to shower," he said. "I got us adjoining rooms so if you need anything, just call out, and I'll come."

With Mr. Cullen I picked up on the little things he did and said. He didn't bother asking me if it was okay whether we had adjoining rooms or not, he just assumed it was. In reality, it was fine. I didn't care. I was at the man's mercy despite how badly I didn't want that to be the case. I couldn't pretend that the situation was otherwise. The charity he was giving me by staying was probably the kindest present anyone had ever given me. Sure, he probably did it out of guilt, but he did it anyway, and that's what mattered.

A sudden image of the Grinch's heart multiplying in size seized my brain, reminding me of Mr. Cullen and it took everything in me not to laugh at the similarities between the two.

He left after watching me carefully. He went back out through the front door and a short while later, the door angled in my direction was cracked. He didn't say anything in acknowledgement and neither did I.

I heard his shower start running on the other side of the wall. It stopped while I was on the phone with my parents, letting them know I was alive. Then there was just silence for the longest time while I talked to Angela after that.

"I'm so sorry I can't be there, Fella," my best friend—only friend if you wanted to be technical—mooed sadly.

"It's okay," I said. "You can make it up to me when I get back."

She paused on the other line. "When are you coming back?"

"I have to wait five more days before I can leave. My check-up isn't until then," I sighed.

The little bitch started laughing. "Wait a second. Wait a second. You're stuck in Atlanta with Henry Cavill's twin?"

I had to clench my teeth and focus incredibly hard to not laugh. Ang had been calling Mr. Cullen that for weeks now. She also called him "Her Wet Dream," but I'd hang up on her every time she said it over the phone so she knew better now than to try me.

"Yes."

She let out a huge, too loud squawk of amusement. "You're. Stuck. With. Him?"

"Yes."

Angela started panting. "Sneak into the shower when he's in there and take a picture for me. It can be my early birthday present."

"Your birthday was two months ago, idiot," I told her, biting my lip to prevent myself from laughing.

"Okay, a _really_ early birthday present."

I snorted. "Oh, all right." I had to pinch my nose. "Creep."

She let out a dreamy little sigh that told me not to ask what the hell she was thinking of. There are certain lines I didn't want to cross more than necessary. "Well, I think it's sweet that he stayed with you. If Cruella Deville were the one who got appendicitis while we were on a trip during Christmas, I would've bid the bitter bitch adieu when she went in for surgery," Angela said, referring to her own demon boss.

It was true. I could see Angela doing that, but me on the other hand… I'd like to think I would do the same if it were Mr. Cullen, but it probably wouldn't have been. The guilt would've more than likely forced me to stay. Even though I wasn't his number one fan, or his fan at all, I wouldn't want him to be alone after the surgery in a different place. On fucking Christmas.

I really wish I didn't have a conscience.

But a tiny part of me realized that Mr. Cullen did have one. Sometimes. Well, most of the time. If I really thought about it for a moment, he always did. I just don't think he knew what to do with it. Or maybe the idea that he could _feel_ something besides frustration when things didn't go his way was foreign to him. Like… a robot.

Or an emotionally stunted idiot.

My money was on the latter.

Guh.

Double guh.

With nothing else to do after speaking to my loved ones, I turned on the television to find that _A Christmas Story_ had just started.

It might have only been a half hour into the movie when I noticed that there still wasn't any noise coming from Mr. Cullen's room. I'd seen him get at least a little bit of sleep while we were at the hospital , but I wasn't sure if maybe he'd passed out in his room after showering.

Another few minutes passed by while I watched the movie, remembering seeing it with my family and Emmett a hundred times. It made me homesick as silly as it sounded. I was a grown woman who missed the shit out of her family.

It was fucking Christmas.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I should've been home—

What sounded like a loud thud from the other side of the room ripped me from my pity party. I wasn't the only one hundreds of miles away from home. Damn it. My heart ate away at the voice in my head that told me I didn't like Mr. Cullen. The same voice that told me Mr. Cullen was an asshole ninety-five percent of the time.

But still.

I really hated myself sometimes.

"Mr. Cullen?" I called out for him weakly. Even raising my voice seemed to pain my intestines.

A soft rap at my door shortly before it squeaked open, answered me. His wet, almost reddish hair peeked out from around the door. "Isabella?" he answered.

I really hated myself.

I wished I could be one of those people who could shut out certain feelings. Like empathy. Guilt. Things like that. But I wasn't.

"I'm watching _A Christmas Story_, if you're interested," I finally told him.

He raised a cautious eyebrow with large green eyes. I know I wasn't giving him an easy, open face. I was probably grimacing at my offer, fighting off every instinct that told me to get this man back into his room. But it was more than that that kept me from acting on that gut feeling. This asshole that only cared about himself the majority of the time, had stayed with me. I'd thanked him so many time I sounded like a broken record, but I think he really did know and understand that I was grateful.

He didn't have to do everything he'd done.

Mr. Cullen ran a hand through his hair, shrugging in a way that almost made me laugh if I hadn't remembered that the action would make me hurt. It looked so awkward on his slim frame, like it was something completely foreign. Or like he was putting on a suit that was two sizes to small. It wasn't natural.

We didn't say anything as he moved my desk chair over to the side of the bed, and he slowly sat in it. He was always graceful, he didn't plop down like I would've or done it with jerky, heavy motions.

The same kind of quiet companionship we shared in the hospital continued in my hotel room while the movie played out. A couple of times, I caught myself looking in his direction to see him completely enraptured in the movie. At one point, during Ralphie's fight with Scut Farkus, I even heard Mr. Cullen snicker a little bit in amusement.

"This is one of my favorite movies," I told him absently, grinning at the same part he found entertaining.

His head tilted in my direction, but his eyes were glancing back and forth between the television and me. "I've never seen this before," he admitted with a hint of sheepishness in his dark eyes.

If it wouldn't hurt, I probably would've gasped but my eyes went wide instead. "Never?"

How the hell was that even possible?

Mr. Cullen simply shook his head before diverting his attention back to the display.

I just kept staring at him.

When I realized I was being pretty fucking creepy, treating him like he was a zoo animal, I looked back at the television before getting caught. It's only nine at night and even though I was tired, I really didn't want to sleep yet. The credits rolled on the TV before going to commercial. Mr. Cullen got up and walked over to where he'd left my purse when he dropped me off. Pulling out a couple of prescription bottles, he held them in his hands while going to grab a thin binder on the desk.

"I'm going to order dinner," he said, handing me the binder. "You have to eat something before I give you your medication." He then went on to pretty much ruin any hope I had of eating something delicious by giving me the run down on what I couldn't eat. Practically everything.

It was impossible not to just stare at him while he rattled shit off. The fact that my asshole boss was the one taking care of me, was ridiculously disturbing. This was a sick joke. A plain, disturbing, sick joke that I had to live with. But I gave him my pathetic order less than a minute later. He placed it with a promise to have the food delivered in about half an hour.

He went back to the seat he'd been in, his long legs bent and wide at the knees. Mr. Cullen was still in his dress pants. Always in dress pants. It was freaking Christmas. I was in sleeping pants that I had genuinely no idea where they came from and a shirt I didn't recognize that had magically appeared at the hospital before I got discharged.

"Don't you want to go change?" I asked him, feeling my face start to itch in embarrassment over what I'd just asked.

Mr. Cullen shot me an inquisitive look. "Change?"

"Out of your clothes?" I drew out the question in a long breath.

He shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't bring any other clothes with me on the trip," he finally answered.

A light bulb went off in my head. I forced myself to look down, taking in how much larger on me the clothing was. And I felt like a huge dick. "These are your clothes, aren't they?"

"I couldn't find anything in your luggage that would've been more comfortable," he explained evenly.

Wait.

"You looked through my bag?" I whispered.

He nodded at me like I'd just asked him whether he liked the color blue or not. "I had to."

What more could I have expected? I'd _needed_ my things and it wasn't like I would've been able to get out of bed and grab my own stuff, or even pack ahead of time. Maybe it was a little bit weird that he'd probably seen my underwear—which were all, luckily, plain, stretchy little bikinis and not thongs. We were adults. And with that face—because his attitude sure as hell wasn't the reason—he'd probably seen more panties up close than I had in my life.

Pushing the thought out of my head, I shrugged and reminded myself to be thankful for everything he'd done for me so far. "Thank you."

The look he shot me was one of those blank ones that I'd seen a hundred times before. It was the one face that I couldn't pick apart no matter how hard I tried. For all I knew, he could've been thinking about puppies and rainbows, or torturing those puppies and dousing rainbows in gasoline. Who knows.

The room service we'd ordered arrived in no time. I was still on a pretty simple diet, so I had to settle for soup and toast while I watch him carefully eat a plain burger much more neatly than anyone I'd ever seen. I must have stared at him too long because his eyes drifted over to me from his meal while we watched _It's a Wonderful Life_.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked me, already wiping at his mouth with the cloth napkin he had on his lap.

I don't know what exactly it was that made me smile. Maybe it was the fact that my boss—who didn't give a shit what anyone thought as long as he was happy—was worried about having something on his face while eating a burger in my hotel room on Christmas. This entire situation just seemed so absurd. Of all the people in the world who I could've gone through this with, it was Mr. Cullen. Fate was kind of a bitch.

It wasn't until he pulled the napkin away from his mouth that I focused on his question, feeling like an idiot for not answering him. "No."

Green eyes narrowed in my direction. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" I asked him.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

I couldn't help but smile right then but didn't say anything.

Mr. Cullen looked at me another moment, taking another careful bite of his burger, which made me smile even more before he sighed. "I won't be mad if you're honest with me, Isabella."

Taking a bite out of my cold toast, I blew out a long breath before snickering when he ate the last piece of his burger, using only his thumb and index finger to hold it. "You eat really neatly," I finally spit out.

He made a face like I was speaking another language. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, no," I bit my lip for a minute. "But it's weird."

He scratched his head. "Is there a certain way you're supposed to eat a hamburger?"

"No, but… you're just so neat. Like you wanted to eat it with a knife and fork, but you didn't."

Mr. Cullen's face turned a soft pink before he looked down.

"Oh my God, you eat burgers like that, don't you?" I half gasped, half laughed out, which made me clench my abs painfully.

When he happened to look back up at me, Mr. Cullen was nodding almost shamefully. "Yes," he answered simply.

Oh lord.

"Do you… eat pizza with a knife and fork?" I asked him hesitantly.

He blinked. "Sometimes."

I just stared at him. Dumbfounded. What. The. Hell.

The words that came out of my mouth afterward were not appropriate and I knew that. But they came out anyway. "Were you homeschooled?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "No. I went to a private school," he answered cautiously. His head tilted to the side. "But I graduated early."

I tilted my head just like he had. "How early?" The question blew out of my mouth the same way the previous one had. Without a lint of a real thought.

"I was sixteen."

All of his little social quirks seemed to make a lot of sense with that. I'd been to school with kids who had been home schooled when they were little, and while I wouldn't consider them to be _weird_ there were things about their mannerisms that were different from those of us who had been raised in public schools the majority of our education. I always figured it was the same way when comparing an only child to one raised with siblings. Certain traits were picked up when surrounded by others.

And if the man known as my boss had spent his childhood in grades above his, then he probably missed _something_ along the way.

Or maybe ten things.

I knew he was an only child. Top that with being a smart guy who was driven…

Things fell into place. This poor bastard couldn't help who he was—a complicated dick.

That phantom of a smile that he'd shared with me just a handful of times before came out again. "Why?"

I couldn't help but give him half a grin. "It explains a lot."

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><p><strong>Two things:<strong>

**1) I'm very honored to be participating in Fandoms for Special Olympics. If you're interested in donating to a great cause, you can have access to a lot of great stories, one of those being MINE. It's a 12,000 word Soccerward one-shot called "A Smokeless Fire." On top of donating, if you send me a copy of your receipt to my email: marianazapata(at)live(dot) com you'll also get a Bella POV of it. Please visit fandoms4specialolympics(dot)blogspot(dot)com for more information. Here are two teasers (one new and one old for TGGT readers):**

"What's that face for?"

"I've never heard you laugh before," she answered.

I felt a tingly sensations in my arms at her observation. "I don't do it often," I told her, but I was already self-conscious. Did I have a stupid sounding laugh?

"It's a good laugh," Swan said, almost as if she'd read my mind.

That was the first time anyone had ever complimented something other than my skills on the field, or my looks.

**AND** *clears throat*

I moaned, trying to take as much of her tit into my mouth as I could while I slipped my hand into the back of her shorts to grip that tight ass, skin to skin. My fingers trailed down and over the cleft of her ass, lightly brushing over her puckered hole before getting where I wanted. The smooth lips of her pussy were soaking wet as I lightly touched them, earning another soft cry from her mouth.

"Tell me what you want, baby," I told her. "You want me to finger fuck you? You're so wet for me. I know you want it."

**Yeahhh. Go donate if you can and want to.**

**2) I started a facebook page! For TD teasers and random things, that's your place to go: www(dot)facebook(dot)com/marianazapatawrites**

**Mmkay. xoxo-Mariana**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hii there. Here's another update. I figured the last chapter was long enough to make up for this one being a bit shorter, but... I'm posting more frequently! Hooray! Thank you all for your wonderful, kind words. A few of you guys made me teary-eyed. Please forgive me for not responding to reviews but know that they (and you) are appreciated more than words.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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><p>I wanted to be a bitch.<p>

Really.

That grudge-holding part of me that remembered the dozens of times Mr. Cullen had wielded his Sword of Asshole-ness in my presence. If there were ranks of expertise for being a dick, he would be an expert. He could teach classes in the art of being a plain bastard.

But when I'd turn to look at him on that chair during Christmas night, I saw a man who ate his burger with care. A man who had never seen _A Christmas Story_. A man made with the same blood and tissue that I was. And a man who took fifteen minutes to eat a piece of cake he'd ordered from room service.

I would've swallowed that slice in three bites. Five minutes tops.

But Mr. Cullen, the asshole, wasn't the same one in the hotel room with me. He'd stayed back at the conference room on MSC business. The Mr. Cullen who had sacrificed his Christmas to stay with me had admitted that he'd never seen _The Grinch_ with Jim Carrey either, and kept shooting me these little, itty bitty smiles when I'd stare too long.

Who the hell was this man?

I'd passed out for a while, and when I'd woken up, he was still in the same chair, watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ really quietly.

The good half of me, the one who realized and appreciated the Mr. Cullen who was present, felt terrible. I knew that I needed to make him feel more welcome instead of just staring and looking like I was contemplating murder. Needless to say, it took me a really long time to think of what to talk to him about. We'd never had a real conversation before.

Usually, he told me what he wanted me to do, and I agreed. He yelled, I nodded. He bitched, I rolled my eyes. He moved the world, and I made sure his schedule was in order. Mr. Cullen was kind of like Batman, and I was Alfred.

With my inner bitch screaming in protest, I looked at him after a while and sighed. "What does your family usually do for Christmas?" I asked.

He didn't turn to look at me, instead, he stayed focused on the movie playing. His answer took far longer than I would've assumed but it shouldn't have been surprising. Mr. Cullen was a private person. "We usually have breakfast at my parent's house, and then open gifts in the afternoon." It wasn't until then that he glanced over at me. "And your family, Isabella?"

I thought about them and sighed. If I tried hard enough, I could smell my Mom's fresh cinnamon rolls and the honeyed ham she made every Christmas. "We usually open one present Christmas Eve, and on Christmas morning we open the rest. Then we eat a huge lunch."

The dozen presents wrapped beneath my little, Douglas fir tree appeared in my memory. Damn it.

"Do you—," he hesitated, "have any siblings?"

His answer from me was a nod. "One brother. He's older than me, but he's in the military."

"Is he deployed?" Mr. Cullen asked.

"Yeah, he's in Afghanistan," I sighed again. Looking over in his direction, I caught his eyes still on me. "Do you have any brothers or sister?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Oh."

Those dark green eyes trailed upward onto the ceiling while his jaw twitched. "I always wanted a brother or a sister," he said wistfully.

The admission threw me off guard.

"But my mother had a difficult pregnancy with me, and the doctors didn't recommend that she go through that again," Mr. Cullen offered with a wary, one-shoulder shrug.

"I'm sure your parents loved you more than enough for a dozen kids," I told him.

He smiled, still a distant, tiny thing. "They do."

There was something about the look on his face that showed me a different man than the one I knew so well. It made me forget, at least in this room, all of the negative things my boss had said and done. The innumerable times I'd wanted to murder him. So it shouldn't have been a surprise when my mouth developed dysentery. "I think my parents like my brother more than me," I admitted to him dumbly, regretting my words almost immediately. That was something I don't think I'd ever even told Angela before. It was my dirty secret. "Maybe not."

Mr. Cullen's eyes darted over to mine with a blank expression. "You really believe that?"

I shrugged, embarrassed by the fact that I'd told him something deeply personal to me. Something I'd been so ashamed of for years. Who wants to think that their parents feel that way? No one.

"You have to think that for a reason," he said softly.

I shrugged again, looking at the television like it was something brand new that I hadn't seen a hundred times before.

Minutes later, Mr. Cullen sighed loudly. "I used to wish that my parents had another child so that they wouldn't focus on me so much. I didn't want the responsibility of being the sole heir to the Masen line."

We had officially over-shared. Too much information. Too personal.

I knew without confirmation that the words he had just spoken were his own dirty, deep secret that he'd held in the chambers of his heart for years. I couldn't imagine the pressure he'd been under. Finishing high school early. Knowing that he had to work for a major company. The heir and majority owner of Masen Super Markets couldn't have just been an accountant in the company. They'd probably expect him to take over as director of the board like his father some day. CEO. COO.

The pressure.

The expectations.

It made my chest constrict. I'd never been perfect and my parents had never expected that from me, but maybe that was the problem in my family. Emmett had always been the best at everything. I wasn't and never would be. That knowledge right there was stinging and painful in its own right.

Good lord.

This wasn't what I was expecting on Christmas.

Over sharing with Mr. Cullen.

I looked over at him, and there was a knowing feel between us. What was said in this room, stayed in this room.

After a moment, he picked up the remote and asked, "What movie would you like to watch now?"

_**December 28**__**th**_

It'd been three days and we hadn't had a single argument.

Well, he hadn't argued with me.

The day after Christmas, Mr. Cullen had gone back to work using his laptop and Blackberry for communication. I don't know what exactly he'd done, or who he'd gotten to do my job while I was pretty much invalid on the bed. The pain wasn't anywhere near as bad as it had been on Christmas. I could walk around slower than usual just fine with only an ache in my stomach, but my boss' doppleganger—the nice, quiet one—insisted that I stay in bed as much as possible.

Doctor's orders.

I sure as hell wasn't going to argue with that.

Mr. Cullen on the other hand, was bitching at whatever poor person was handling his scheduling and little tasks. "_That wasn't what I'd asked for!"_ he screamed two days before. "_If I wanted that, I would've told you to do it_," he said another day. All things and words I'd been subjected to plenty of times.

Poor bitch.

He'd come into my room late in the evening, after working all day and running back and forth downstairs to use their business office for printouts and faxes, and who knows what else. I didn't ask questions because I didn't want to bring more attention to my disabled status.

We would eat dinner together, silently. Every hour, he'd ask me something about whatever we were watching, or I'd ask him. That would go on until nearly eleven when Mr. Cullen would tell me goodnight and leave the door between our rooms cracked.

That night, he came in red-faced and tense. I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears after the verbal beat-down he'd given the assistant helping him. From what my _detective_, also known as nosey, skills discovered was that the assistant had sent the wrong file to the chief operating office for a presentation. The wrath in his voice when he'd found out was tangible even in a different room.

Mr. Cullen plopped down onto the chair he'd taken over, shaking his head while running both hands through his hair. _That_ was my boss. The one who took everything so seriously. The man who vibrated with frustration when things weren't perfect.

"I think every other assistant in this company, besides you, is completely incompetent, Isabella," he huffed. "I don't know what I'm going to do when you leave in a couple of months."

_Say… what?_

It took us both a second to process what he'd just said. What he'd admitted.

Mr. Cullen had never actually brought up the fact that I'd put in my transfer, that he knew I was trying to get the hell away from him. And it was a sad kind of warped compliment that he'd just paid me.

And then he blinked before looking toward the television with a straight spine. "But I still have time."

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><p><strong>I love this guy.<strong>

**Anyway, just my last reminder. If you want to help out a great charity AND get Soccerward, I'm pretty sure midnight on June 14th is the last night to donate and get that one-shot along with the Bella POV. Mainly, what I have written so far, is pure lemony goodness. We'll see where it goes over the next day. Will I be posting Soccerward on here in the future? Yeah, sure. It won't be for at least two or three months though to be fair to those who donated. Please visit fandoms4specialolympics . blogspot . com if you're interested, and then forward me your receipt if you donate marianazapata at live . com**

**xo-Mariana**


	22. Chapter 22

Hi everyone. I know it's been a while. I went on vacation, got sick, but now I'm baaack. Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful words. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but this assward is mine!

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><p>"Mr. Cullen!"<p>

I shouldn't have waited. I shouldn't have waited. I shouldn't have waited.

But I did.

And now every pore on my body was suffering with sweat, and I had the chills. The warm feeling coming from my incisions had started the night before, after he'd gone on a rant about how much the employee back home sucked. I ignored it because I didn't think it was a big deal. Then, throughout the day today, it'd gotten warmer. Then I started getting warmer. Then hot. Then hotter. And hotter.

Now I was shaking. Hot but cold, so hot but freezing. When I told him an hour before that I was going to take a shower, Mr. Cullen had given me a funny look. He'd asked me if I was fine, and like a fool, I told him yes. I think I even rolled my eyes.

"Isabella?" his sleepy voice carried through our adjoining rooms.

I felt both weak and like a fool.

"Isabella?" he repeated.

"Mr. Cullen," I think it sounded like a moan. Pitiful. "I think I need to go to the hospital."

In five seconds flat, Mr. Cullen's tall frame was standing over me. Wearing only sleeping pants that hung off his hips, he was kneeling on the bed hovering over me. For one split moment, I thought to myself how Ang would probably kill to be in my position, and for one split second, I thought about caring enough to take in his lean shirtless frame. But I felt too awful to focus on whether he had an innie or an outtie, or whether he had dark nipples or light colored ones.

"What's wrong?" he whispered in the dark room.

"I have a fever," I told him in a tiny voice I didn't think I'd used since I was six. "My incisions hurt."

Mr. Cullen's palm was pressing against my forehead a moment later. When he hissed, I knew I was in deep shit. And when the asshole started pulling up my big t-shirt—really, it was his t-shirt—I freaked out.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Those cool green eyes met mine in the dark bedroom with pure collection, even as he kept pulling up my shirt to bunch right underneath my breasts. "I want to touch your stomach."

What he really meant was that he was trying to touch my incisions. I think.

Regardless, I made a face as he pressed his cool fingertips to the two spots on my stomach. Mr. Cullen groaned, moving his hand over to cup my too-hot ribs. "Why didn't you tell me?"

_Because I'm an idiot._

"I don't know," I told him instead.

What the hell was the world coming to when I was calling out for my boss of all people? I was supposed to be visiting the doctor tomorrow to get clearance to go back home. Tomorrow!

He let out a long and drawn out sigh before slipping both of his hands between my back and the bed, and pulling me up to sitting position. Silently, Mr. Cullen grabbed the pants I had pooled on the floor and slipped them on me. I couldn't find it in me to really notice that I was lying in bed, in only a t-shirt and underwear with my boss dressing me. My boss who was only in pajama bottoms and hopefully underwear. Later on, I'd wonder whether he wore tighty whities or not—I wouldn't hold it past him.

"I'm going to call your doctor," he told me quietly, his voice laced with tired frustration.

I heard him on the phone for a few minutes, and the next thing I knew he was standing in front of me wearing a thin, white undershirt with my purse thrown over his shoulder. He was slipping my flats on my feet and pulling me up to my feet.

"We're going to the emergency room," Mr. Cullen said.

"The emergency room?"

He stared at me with hard green eyes. "Yes, the emergency room. You should've told me," his words were accusatory and sharp. "I've been trying to take care of you, Isabella, and you couldn't even tell me that you weren't feeling well?"

I just stared at him. This man was cool as a cucumber every day of the year unless he was mad, but then again he only got mad when it was something work-related that someone messed up. But his eyes were frustrated and maybe pained. I think that I hurt his feelings. It was the only conclusion I could draw from how upset he looked.

And I felt like a huge bitch.

Because he was right. He _had_ been trying to take care of me in his own way. On Christmas. Super far away from his family. Stuck in a hotel room. Maybe Mr. Cullen wasn't the warmest person in the world. He didn't brush my hair out of my face or cook me soup and baby me, but he had been trying in his own quiet, little, asshole way.

It was my turn to say two words I never expected to come out of my mouth. That seemed to be happening a lot more often the last few days. "I'm sorry." Because I was.

He blinked at me before reluctantly nodding. "C'mon. Let's just go to the hospital."

The ride in the taxi was quiet and tense. When we made it to the same hospital I'd been admitted to just a few days before, he signed me in and filled out my information again to get admitted. And when the nurse came to get me a few minutes later, I deliberated on whether to ask him if he wanted to come with me or not.

"Do you want to, uh, go with me?" I asked him slowly, stuttering through my words.

Mr. Cullen just nodded.

When the nurse took my vitals and chewed me out for letting my fever get to over one hundred and two degrees, the dick—Mr. Cullen—looked at me out of the corner of his eye and mumbled, "Irresponsible."

It didn't matter that I felt like shit that had been stepped on by size twelve shoes, I had to grind my teeth to keep from saying anything.

It was a slow night in the emergency room, so they took me into a different room to wait for the doctor. Silently. I couldn't find it in me to even look more than once at Mr. Cullen, because I was embarrassed by the fact that I'd dragged him out of our hotel rooms at two o'clock in the morning, in our pajamas, to go to the doctor.

After getting felt up by a doctor that reminded me a lot of Santa Claus, he armed me with a prescription for antibiotics and Advil that my "husband" could fill at the pharmacy across the hospital. I just looked at Mr. Cullen with wide eyes but didn't correct the old man.

When we were finally heading back to the hotel at five o'clock in the morning, Mr. Cullen had bags under his eyes and I was falling asleep in the cab. In the hotel room, I crawled underneath the sheets quietly after taking off my pants.

But he stood at the door that separated our two rooms, watching me. "I know that I'm not your favorite person but please tell me if you start to feel bad again," he said in that low voice that could've signified a million things.

And as I lay in bed, delirious with exhaustion and still too warm, I wondered if I wasn't being too hard on him.

Sure, he was a jerk. Most of the time. But for all intents and purposes, he had been different since we got to Atlanta.

_**December 31**__**st**_

Mr. Cullen was counting my pills.

"I took it already," I had told him a few minutes before. But did that stop him? Nope.

He'd just shot me an emotionless look, and then opened up my prescription to count how much antibiotic I had left. The fever scare had been a day and a half before. It didn't escape me that we—well, really just me—were stuck in Atlanta until at least tomorrow. The pain in my incisions had finally lessened enough to the point where I wasn't suffering, and my fever had been under control with the help of Advil and the strong medicine the doctor had prescribed me.

After pouring the pills back into the plastic container, he set the bottle onto the nightstand right next to me. It was already eleven-thirty and the same homesickness I'd felt during Christmas had come back full force. It was my fault we were still in Atlanta.

I knew that if I'd quit being a stubborn ass and just told Mr. Cullen that I'd started to feel weird, we'd probably be home now. I could be in Angela's apartment with our other single friend Bree, toasting the new year together. It was our yearly celebration. I'd been sixteen when my parents stopped staying up for New Years. Emmett had enlisted and wasn't home anymore to celebrate with fireworks and grilling.

It wasn't much, but it was our little tradition. But now…

I was an idiot.

"Thank you for staying with me," I said in what was _not_ a mumble. The words were heartfelt.

He cocked his head in my direction, still plain-faced. "It's no problem."

I remembered that Angela had called me an idiot when I'd spoken to her on the phone a few hours before.

"Did you have plans for tonight?" I asked him, feeling guilt rack my stomach.

Those dark green eyes narrowed before he shrugged. "No. I usually stay home unless Jasper is having a get together." Mr. Cullen blinked. "Did you have plans, Isabella?"

"No. My friend and I order take-out, watch the fireworks on television, and then watch a movie afterward. "

"You don't go out to those clubs and parties all the young people go to?" he asked carefully.

I'm pretty sure I snorted, but for which specific reason, I have no idea. It could've been the fact that he assumed I went to clubs and parties—which I didn't. Or, it could've been the fact that he used the term _young people_. Seriously? I didn't know exactly how old Mr. Cullen was but I didn't think he was _that _much older than me. "Uh, no. How old are you?" the question was out of my mouth before I even realized it.

"Thirty-one," he answered in an archaic voice that made it seem like he was closer to sixty than thirty.

"Why don't you go to those clubs? You're young."

Mr. Cullen scrunched up his face, an expression I didn't even think he was capable of. "Too many people. Too loud."

Well, he was right about that. I thought the same thing. But his answer still bothered me. It reminded me about how he hadn't seen so many Christmas movies that I'd watched a billion times growing up. It made me think about how he ate his burger and how I imagined him eating pizza. Careful. Controlled. Distant. It suffocated me and that was saying a lot because I thought hitting up flea markets and garage sales were fun. "So you don't like going to concerts or things like that?"

"I like concerts," he admitted. "That's different though. People don't stumble around belligerently embarrassing themselves there. Jasper and I just went to a concert a few weeks ago."

I don't know what it was about his tone that sparked an interest in me. He sounded so proud of himself. "Oh yeah?" I baited him.

"We went to see Rush, and in a few weeks we're going to Miami to see Dream Theater."

Now, when I imagined Mr. Cullen going to concerts, I'd pictured an orchestra or a symphony. Maybe even Norah Jones or… I don't know, Dave Mathews Band. But I knew Rush and I knew Dream Theater because of my Dad. That wasn't what I was expecting at all. "No Mike Portnoy anymore though."

The look Mr. Cullen gave me was indescribable. It was amusement on a glacier. The look that immediately followed was a withering one. "I'm disappointed, but I have hopes it will still be excellent."

And I laughed. For the first time since before I left for Atlanta, and excluding when I'd giggled painfully while watching movies, I genuinely laughed. It wasn't the medicine. It was the man standing next to my bed, hoping to see a good concert. The same man who scowled and sighed as he bulldozed his way through life.

"I hope it'll be excellent for you, too," I told him, and I meant it one hundred percent.

Mr. Cullen gave me one of his teensy, one-sided smiles. "Do you like to go to concerts?" he asked me carefully.

I nodded. "Yes." I could've just answered him that way, but I didn't. I didn't want to be so much of a bitch toward him anymore. Maybe things would go back to the way they were when we were back home, but that didn't mean I needed to be an ungrateful shrew when things were as good as they could get. At least, I thought so. "I went to see a band called The Reign of Kindo about a month ago."

"What do they sound like?" his voice was low and curious.

We ended up talking about music right until the countdown, and when the clock hit midnight, we both sucked in breaths and smiled at each other guardedly. "Happy New Years," we each said simultaneously.

And a few hours later, when I was laying in bed exhausted, and passed out after watching some terrible movie on television about Piranhas, I caught Mr. Cullen's shadow in the doorway between our rooms in a sleepy stupor.

"Is everything okay?" I mumbled.

"I just—," he paused, "Everything is fine. Goodnight."

I was too tired to really wonder what the hell he was doing up.


	23. Chapter 23

Three chapter updates in a row! What! (different stories of course) Anyway, you guys are all so freaking awesome. Seriously. There are times when I dread reviews, especially with this story, but the majority of you make me so excited about this story. Yes, it's slow. No, I'm not rushing shit. If you want to read a story with an Edward that's a boss and a Bella that's secretly in love with him, there are plenty of good ones like that on this website. Not here. Not yet. There will be good things at some point in the future but it's taking time. Guh. Enough serious talk, this chapter was going to be super long but I really like what we covered sooo ta-daa! Enjoy and thank you for being the best readers I could ever ask for! xo

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but Assward (we're coining him as that) is all mine.

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><p>It was bound to happen.<p>

Spending nearly twenty-four hours a day with a person would try anyone, but spending all day with _Mr. Cullen_ of all people, would be the equal of Prometheus' damnation. When I look back on it, I now know that it needed to happen in order for this crap between us to settle. We tiptoed around each other, thin ice under our feet, as he cared for me in his distant way and I sat back and stewed on his intentions.

Like most things, the fission started off small. So small. Inconsequential really. It probably didn't help that my period was right around the corner and my hormones were out of whack.

The doctor had just cleared me to go back home; my fever had come and gone, the pain in my incisions had disappeared, and I was only mildly uncomfortable in my midsection. After all the shit I'd gone through in the past week and a half, going home felt like a blessing. I don't think I'd gone to the hospital in my entire life combined than I had in the last six months. It was pretty ridiculous.

"I think you should take off a few more days from work," Mr. Cullen suggested while he stood watching me pack for our flight early the next morning.

I'd been folding my dirty clothes carefully into the corner of my suitcase when I paused. "It's fine."

He made a noise in his throat that sounded like disapproval. "I think you should take off at least a couple more days."

"I'll be fine."

By that point, he was beyond being suggestive and right alongside being the normal Cullen I dealt with on a regular basis. The quiet, awkward man that liked to talk about music had pulled a groundhog and disappeared on me. "Take off a few more days."

I didn't like people telling me what to do period, but I put up with it on a regular basis because I kind of had to. But Mr. Cullen telling me that I should or shouldn't take time off from work was grating, bubbling, annoying. "I need to go back to work," I told him in a slip. Apparently, getting my appendicitis removed caused verbal diarrhea.

"I've managed just fine without you for a week, I can manage just fine without you for a few more days," he lied. I'd just heard him on the phone with someone bitching about how he or she had poor scheduling skills. The day before he'd come in grumbling about how some people were too dumb to understand simple instructions.

The man was an ass, what can I say.

So I'd snorted at his statement. A full blown snort that made me laugh afterward.

And he, cold Mr. Cullen who ripped assholes like I would grate a block of cheese, smiled that little, one-sided grin. "You don't believe me?" he asked slowly.

"No."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Can I be honest?" I asked him, earning a nod in response.

"I've always asked you to be honest with me," he added.

I sat back against the side of the bed and looked at him evenly. Something told me that this was my chance to get things from the past off my chest. In a hotel room so far from home, I had this overwhelming urge to tell him things I couldn't be able to when we were back in Orlando. "As much crap as you give me, I don't know how you managed to survive before me."

He blinked.

"Mrs. Cope didn't do _anything_," I told him, just in case he didn't know. But I knew that he knew.

It was at that point that he took a step back to press his back against the wall next to the doorway. "She didn't," he agreed in a lowered voice.

I had wanted to ask him _why_ she didn't. _How_ she didn't. That wasn't the right moment though, I could feel it in my bones. "Then why do you need your assistant all of a sudden?"

The question hit a nerve, I could tell by the clench in his jaw. "I've always needed an assistant, Isabella. The only difference between now and then is that I don't have to stay up until midnight working every day anymore."

"You're kidding me."

Mr. Cullen didn't kid. I knew he meant what he said but my mouth still gaped open.

"Why?" I finally spit out.

He was hesitating again. That skilled brain that lacked basic social functions but mastered difficult equations and problems with ease was trying to decide how to answer my question. It took him so long to answer that I'd decided he was just going to ignore me. "You know I value my privacy," he whispered.

"I know." I blinked at him. "And I've told you that I'm not that kind of person," I had said, hoping to remind him of the original Kate incident.

The words out of his mouth were so slow and painful it was like torture for him to respond. "I know."

The silence was thick between us.

"Mrs. Cope was my ex-fiancee's stepmother," he explained carefully. "I know you probably won't believe me, Isabella, but I'm a loyal person. I couldn't find it in me to fire her even after I separated from her stepdaughter."

_Kate_! Kate screamed at me, but I couldn't scream her name back out. It was stuck in my throat.

"It just happened to work out in my favor that Mrs. Cope wasn't as loyal as I am, and things happened that worked out in my favor to get her to quit before I worked myself into an early grave. I liked Mrs. Cope as a person, but as an employee…" he trailed off with a glance at the popcorn ceiling. "It wasn't an ideal situation for me in any way, and I won't ever be put myself there again."

I sucked in my breath, thinking about how hard and precise he was with every single fucking thing he ever asked me to do. Was it because of how much of a lazy ass she had been that he had to be ten times as vigilant to make sure I wasn't like her? It was a stretch, and kind of stupid, but I could see that being in his train of thought.

"I'm an asshole, Isabella. I know that, but I expect my employees to work as hard as I do. I know that not everyone's family name and honor relies on the prosperity of MSM, but mine does. I just want the best for it. There's a lot of employees that rely on me getting things done," he finished with a sigh, like just saying the words—the burden—somehow relieved some of the pressure he was under.

I thought my job was stressful enough, but compared to him? I couldn't imagine, and on top of the expectations he'd felt his entire life with his family? Fuck. That. I could easily live in my brother's shadow the rest of my life. I could live perfectly happy with a job that started at eight and ended at six for the rest of my life.

Living my life seemed a lot more important than wasting it away on a job. It was with that thought that I started to feel bad for my boss. Bad for all that he'd given up for MSM. It didn't seem fair, even if he liked what he did, even if he didn't mind all the hours that he worked.

His honesty seemed to have some kind of magnetic force behind it because it drew

out mine each and every time so far. "I need to go back to work because I'm pretty sure I'm out of sick time, and I can't afford to take off any unpaid days," I told him in one breath, looking away in embarrassment. "All these doctor visits are killing my savings and I have to make my tuition payment in two weeks."

"I can approve you more paid sick time," he said in that strong voice I was used to.

I shook my head, finally looking directly at him. "That's not fair. If I worked for Jasper, he wouldn't be able to do that for me, or anyone."

Mr. Cullen looked at me like I'd grown two heads. "You're being serious?"

"Yes."

After what seemed like five minutes, he nodded. "If that's what you want to do then… just remind me that you don't need to be walking around the building. I'll keep you on light duty."

I laughed, but it wasn't a nice laugh. It was a pissed off one. An incredulous one. "I'm pretty sure I can walk around the building if I have to after my muscle contusion. If I remember correctly, you had me going all over the building and I could barely walk." The words were just as ugly as I felt.

He had the grace to wince like someone had just twisted his nipple or something equally painful. "Isabella—"

But the ugly, black words were still in my throat and mind. "I don't know why you care about me now but you didn't back then."

"I'm sorry." Mr. Cullen looked away in the direction of the window of my hotel room. He closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips to his eye sockets. "I thought—," he was hesitating again, "I thought that you were over exaggerating your injury. I thought that you were trying to take advantage of the situation. I'm so sorry."

Over exaggerating my injury? As stupid as the idea of me doing that sounded, I'd had a job before. Everyone's worked with people who blow things out of proportion. Lazy people who would do and say just about anything to get out of actually working. I immediately thought of this girl I worked with at a clothing store that would constantly come in claiming that she was sick, that she was dizzy, that she couldn't stay another minute past her work schedule even if we were busy. People were like that, but I wasn't.

"I'm not like that though," I hissed at him.

He looked at me with dark apologetic eyes reluctantly. "I know that now."

I wanted to ask him how he knew that now and why he didn't before, but I didn't.

"It's hard for me to trust people," he said softly.

I wanted to glare at him, but I didn't, because it was hard for me to trust people too.


	24. Chapter 24

Hello, my friends. Here's an update. Thank you all for your words of encouragement and excitement. I love them! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but TDward/Assward is mine.

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><p>"<em>What?" <em>My questions sounded more like _whaaaaaat_ than just a regular _what_, but the enunciation was necessary. Absolutely necessary. A simple _what_ wouldn't be enough to really express the surprise behind my question.

Mr. Cheney, being the absolute professional that he is, didn't even blink an eye as he explained his earlier statement. "It's an open and shut case, Ms. Swan—"

That I understood.

"With her prior history—"

I was fully aware she was a psycho bitch courtesy of Officer Hot Pants.

"With the number of witnesses and the depositions already recorded—"

I already knew the people who had watched Kate being a crazy bitch had volunteered to say what they had seen.

"And with the restraining order filed against her immediately afterward—"

Bingo!

I had no idea she had a restraining order out against her. None. In five seconds flat, I tried to think of how many other lives she could be trying to ruin besides Mr. Cullen's. Did crazy people have friends? Some. But who would want to be friends with her of all people? I didn't know her, and I had a sinking feeling she'd been engaged to Mr. Cullen at some point—for reasons I could never understand besides the fact that she was pretty in the same way one would consider a glacier beautiful—but _why? _And who?

It had to be Mr. Cullen. I just knew it.

"We'll have to attend the trial and then the judge will sentence her. She'll probably get lengthy treatment somewhere instead of actual jail time but…" Mr. Cheney trailed off with a movement of thick eyebrows. He even shrugged. "You have nothing to worry about."

Which was all I really wanted honestly. Jail just seemed so harsh. Kate was a huge twat, but I couldn't imagine her being Big Bertha's bitch in jail. They'd use her as dental floss.

I nodded at the lawyer MSC had provided for me, slowly, hoping he'd spill more information I wasn't aware of. "That's it?"

"That's all, Ms. Swan," he said.

The restraining order notice weighed heavily on me as I made it through the next chunk of the day. I'd been back at work for almost two weeks. With all the work I had to catch up on, it felt like only three days had passed but it'd been longer than that.

Mr. Cullen and I had been stuck at the office until at least six but no later than seven pretty much every day. True to his word, he had laid off having me run errands all over the building for him. On three different occasions, on days that I _hadn't_ brought my lunch to work, he'd gotten someone from another floor to buy his lunch. It also just so happened that the volatile bastard known as my boss, had bought me something those days as well.

Things were pretty normal surprisingly. Better than normal. He still screamed my name out when he wanted something. He still gritted his teeth when something wasn't right and I needed to correct it. He still huffed and puffed, and probably gave himself an ulcer with all the end-of-the-year crap he had to sort through from the week he'd taken off. But he was a sort of gentle asshole. If that was possible.

Our dynamic had changed. We had a peaceful understanding between us. Maybe it was the fact that his little Grinch heart had grown over the break, or maybe he started getting laid at some point. But the point was, Mr. Cullen was still a gigantic dick but less than a huge dickwad when he dealt with me, at least.

I still rolled my eyes and fought back the urge to spit in his coffee when he was a jerk, but it was less often.

He was nice in his own awkward, coldly polite way.

So, the idea that he could be the person who filed a restraining order against Kate, his possible ex-fiance was stuck on me. I knew Mr. Cullen's moods from his body posture, his mannerisms, his facial expressions. I had a vague understanding of how to deal with him when he was in a terrible mood so that I wasn't burned to a crisp. But besides that, and the handful of quirky things I'd learned during Appendicitis 2011, I didn't know much about him.

What in the fuck had happened between him and Krazy Kate? (As Ang and I called her.)

I was so locked up in my thoughts about the mysteries that surrounded the rich people of my office floor, and reminding myself to request the day off for the assault trial, that I almost ran into The Devil himself on my way back to the office.

In a midnight blue suit with a white shirt and black tie, he wasn't hard to miss; all six-feet plus and probably a little over two hundred pounds. He was fiddling with the cuff links on his sleeve when I stopped on crazy legs two feet away from him.

"Where were you?" he asked, eyeing me slowly from my head down with those dark green eyes.

I didn't make a face even though that tiny, little, baby-sized part of me that was still crying out to be a bitch wanted me to. So I blinked instead. "I emailed you. Mr. Cheney down in Legal wanted to talk to me about—," I raised my eyebrows at him, "that."

"You emailed me?" His question was even and careful.

I nodded.

Mr. Cullen's gaze darted to the ceiling. "Oh." With a little puff, I swear his shoulders relaxed. "I didn't check my email. I was worried."

That felt like the perfect moment for someone somewhere to bang a gong. _Did he just say he was worried?_ I don't know what in the hell he could be worried about while I was at work.

"I'm fine," I told him slowly. "Did you, ah, need me for something?"

Those grass-green eyes settled on my face again. "No."

_Awkward!_

"Oh, okay," was my equally awkward response back. It was like my middle school Sadie Hawkins dance all over again.

He side-stepped to the right, still looking at my face with a blank expression on his. "I'm going to my meeting now. Please finish those reports I left on your desk." Mr. Cullen didn't bother waiting for my response before he was walking around me and heading back out the heavy glass doors.

As incredibly weird as the moment had just been, I shrugged and went back to my desk, intent on finishing up the pile of crap he'd left. I'd made it through organizing the annual reports before I logged onto my computer and email. But my eyes immediately landed on one of five new emails from someone whose name I didn't recognize. The title said CONGRATULATIONS!

Clicking on the email, the sender was someone named Renesmee Clark in Human Resources. I'd heard her name before but that was it. The body of the email made my stomach plummet a million feet into an abyss.

_Congratulations, Miss Swan! You're the winner of a Masen Supermarkets Incorporated Employees Advancing Scholarship! _

I'd won a scholarship for fifteen thousand dollars. Fifteen thousand dollars.

I thought the amount one more time.

Fifteen thousand dollars.

There was no way I'd entered any kind of contest to win a scholarship for school. My tuition payment was supposed to be due at the end of the week and I'd put off paying it until I got paid in two days. The mystery ate at me while I read the terms and conditions of the award and what I'd need to do to get my money. So I put my detective skills to use and went onto our company website to search for the award.

What I found out quickly was that the scholarship was awarded to five employees in the company every year. A direct supervisor had to nominate a candidate that they felt contributed to the company and would continue to do so. For some reason my hands shook as I read the information.

Nominations were accepted between November 1st and December 1st.

My direct supervisor had been Mr. Cullen at the time.

I felt like Kate had kicked my stomach instead of my knee right then. I also felt like a huge asshole. Mr. Cullen had nominated me for an award that was going to save me thousands of dollars and loans.

My family had never been rich or even middle-class. We scraped by as lower middle-class or rich poor people. Every Christmas, Mom and Dad would buy my brother and me one big present from Santa Claus, like a Gameboy we had to share, and smaller presents from them. I never asked for much and I'd been perfectly happy.

But this.

This made my insides churn in a completely different way. The magnitude of this gift made my throat itch.

My fingers were dialing Angela's speed dial before I even realized what the hell I was doing.

"Fella!" she hissed over the receiver.

"Ang," I mumbled back, still looking back and forth between my email and the scholarship page.

"What happened?" she whispered, knowing that I wouldn't call her unless it was really important during work hours.

"I won a scholarship for school," I told her quickly. "Mr. Cullen submitted me for a scholarship, and I got it."

She let out a quiet whoop on the other line. "No way!"

"Yes way! Mr. Cullen did it," I said.

"How about that," she huffed, chuckling low. "I told you Henry Cavill's twin had a freaking heart, Fella. What did I tell you? What. Did. I. Tell. You?"

I didn't want to go so far as to say he had a heart but… I think I was at the point of no return. A real asshole wouldn't have done that for me. A real, real, real prick made of wood, wouldn't have thought about me ever. But maybe a little jerk, one who didn't know any better but was trying, could and would.

"I'm so excited, but I don't even know what to think, Ang," I whispered even though I didn't have to since the office was empty.

Angela laughed. "You better think about being nicer to that Greek god. Or! Or! I'll be nice to him for you. Yeah?"

I couldn't help but snort, my eyes still locked on the email in front of me. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that so I don't have to ever lie to Tyler about you being interested in other men." Tyler was a guy she'd met right before New Years and spent the day with him.

She hissed loudly. "Call me later. Cruella is back! But be nice!" With that, she hung up her end and left me staring at my computer screen.

For the next two hours, I thought a lot about Mr. Cullen's unexpected kindness.

I thought about all my Mom had taught me about being nice, patient, and understanding with others. If she knew half of what I knew about Mr. Cullen, I know what she would've told me. What she would've suggested I do to repay him for his gesture.

I worked for a man who didn't have many friends. Only one probably. He didn't know about socializing with normal people—I had a feeling he knew damn well how to handle himself in front of the robots he'd probably been surrounded with his whole life, minus his very sweet father. He didn't know the good things in life. The little things in life. He was all handcuffs and bondage and carefully crafted things, I thought of it as a prison of invisible walls. And while I didn't exactly have what most would consider an interesting life, or a lot of friends, I was pretty happy if not a little lonely myself at random times.

If there was one thing I understood, it was that.

That feeling of being disconnected from most other people.

What would my Mom tell me to do? She'd tell me to be nice and patient with the man who had dated a psycho bitch, ate pizza and burgers with a knife and fork, who'd never seen movies that were staples in most kids' lives. What the hell else had he missed?

I didn't want to change his life.

But maybe, I could be patient with this boss of mine, and continue to try and understand him better. Maybe I could just try to be nicer to him at least a little bit. Fifteen thousand dollars for school would be enough to last me until I finished my degree in a year.

When the thump of the doors closing reached me at my desk more than an hour later, I sucked up all the strength I had inside of me, and forced all the preconceived ideas I had of Mr. Cullen to the back of my head.

"Thank you very much for what you did," I told him the moment he made it into the opening that led from my desk to his office.

He stopped and looked at me from over his shoulder, his facial expression relaxing infinitely. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "You're welcome, Isabella," he said. "You deserve it."

And for the second time in a day, I felt like a dick. He thought I deserved it.


	25. Chapter 25

***waves* Hi guys. It's been awhile, and I'm really sorry. This was supposed to be up for my birthday... then yesterday... and finally today. I hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for being so kind and understand with all that hubba-jubba that went on in August :-) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but the rest of this is mine.**

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><p>"I don't want to."<p>

"Just do it!"

"But I don't want to."

Sigh. "JUST FUCKING DO IT!" Complete silence. "Crap! Gotta go, Cruella is calling."

The dial tone bid me goodbye.

I sighed and set the phone down on the dock, anxiety rolling through my spine. I could do it. I could definitely do it.

Fingering the soft t-shirts sitting on my lap, I steeled my back, said a little prayer and… stayed seated. When the idea had come to me two weeks ago, I'd thought _good job, Bella! _And now, sitting there at my desk at ten minutes until five, I was thinking more along the lines of _you should've just bought a gift card, Bella. _

Shit.

It'd been about three weeks since I found out about my scholarship. Three weeks since I'd swallowed my pride, all of my memories from before Christmas, and took a deep breath. Project: Be Nice To Mr. Cullen had been initiated.

I was proud to say I hadn't rolled my eyes once. I'd only called him an asshole about ten times—which was really good considering it had been—at one point—a multiple daily occurrence. And apparently that alone had been enough. We'd reached a quiet truce of sorts. In return, I hadn't gotten yelled at once. He'd lost his temper but somehow managed to rein it in. And, as Angela had said, "He bought you lunch twice, twat."

What more could I ask for?

So when the idea of buying Mr. Cullen something as a late Christmas present hit me, I kind of felt obligated to do it. So I did. And I was now acting like a complete and total chicken shit.

"Isabella!"

Of course. Of fucking course.

I swallowed and got up, leaving the package on top of the desk. Wiping my clammy hands on my pant legs, I walked and stood at the doorway, watching Mr. Cullen fiddle fart around his desk, collecting his things and organizing the small collection of pens he had on the corner in a holder.

"Can you forward me the Lake County file before you leave?" His bright eyes flickered up to mine briefly when his hands dropped the pens. "Please." Still an afterthought and it might always be, but I'd take it.

I nodded at him, taking a single step back before he spoke again.

"Your dress is lovely."

That was one of those moments that I had to ask myself whether this was real life or not. When I looked back up at him, his expression was wide and earnest, and it sucked the air out of my lungs. A smile my cheeks weren't familiar with creeped over my face timidly.

A second later, I put up a finger asking him to give me a second before hightailing it to my desk to grab what I'd left on top of it. My fingers ached as I hiked it back to his office, holding the two shirts out to him and feeling like I was offering up a kidney instead of something I'd bought off a website for fifty bucks.

I scratched at my cheek while he unfolded one shirt at a time silently. "It's a late Christmas present," I found myself telling him.

Those emerald green eyes slashed up to meet mine as he set both shirts wide on top of his desk, smoothing them down. The urge to babble things about how I'm not sure whether I got the right size or not was on my tongue but I squashed it down. I knew his size. He was a solid medium. Not brawny enough for a large and not scrawny enough for a small.

"These are great," he finally said. "I don't have either one of these."

They were both band t-shirts. Bands that I knew without a doubt he liked. Rush and Dream Theater. They were pretty nerdy. Really nerdy. I'd seen grown men wearing shirts like these tucked into belted jean shorts. Super fucking nerdy but from the curves he had on the corners of his mouth, I had a feeling Mr. Cullen didn't think the same thing.

"I hope you like them."

And then he smiled. Full on smiled. Bright white teeth that were so straight they had to have been the product of years with braces. Pink lips that pulled neatly back. It hit me right in the chest.

"I really like them," he admitted, still grinning wide. His eyes went back and forth between me and his shirts over and over again. "A lot." That long-fingered hand went up to pull on his earlobe. "It's probably the most thoughtful gift anyone besides my parents has ever given me."

I smiled back at him, exhaling in relief. When his eyes settled a little longer on his desk, I took a step back, shaking off the nerves that had settled their spindly legs on my back. "Well, I'm going to go send you that file."

Well. My name should've been Bella The Cowardly Lion.

_**Monday**_

When the door that led to our offices slammed shut, I looked up. Mr. Cullen was already in his office, so it couldn't have been him. We didn't really get that many visitors throughout the week besides the mail clerk and an occasional assistant that dropped off something.

"He has time."

"Esme, he's busy."

"Carlisle, he has time to see me."

Oh snap.

I'd heard stories about Esme Cullen even back downstairs. Jasper had told me the last time we'd gone to lunch a week ago, about a time when he and Mr. Cullen were in college and she'd shown up to their dorm room unannounced. She'd checked their drawers for pot and made them take a random drug test. Needless to say, I almost peed myself laughing, and luckily for them, neither one of them touched anything stronger than black coffee so they were off the hook. But still.

To say that I was equal parts excited as I was scared to meet the notorious Mrs. Cullen would be a huge understatement.

In less than a second, the eldest Mr. Cullen—Carlisle, as he'd told me I could call him before—rounded the hall with a petite silver streaked auburn-haired woman with a pantsuit that screamed power.

The nerves decided to wreck into my stomach like a bowling ball. Should I stand up or sit down? It felt like I was meeting Queen Elizabeth.

"Good morning, Bella," Carlisle greeted me like we were old friends, but I was too stuck on the fact that he remembered my name to think of anything else.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen," I answered him, smiling at him and his wife.

Esme turned to look at Carlisle over her shoulder. "This is Ms. Swan?"

"You can call me Bella," I told her nervously.

With a cool smile, her attention focused back at me, one perfectly manicured eyebrow rising on its own. "Bella Swan, the young lady who is pressing charges against that little heathen trollop?"

I swear to God I couldn't help it. I couldn't. I laughed loud, leading it with my nose.

When I had somehow managed to get myself under control, Carlisle had his eyes to the ceiling with a hand covering his mouth. There was no way Mr. Cullen hadn't heard them minutes before, especially now. But he still hadn't appeared.

Curling my lips behind my teeth, I figured by Esme Cullen's tone and word choice, I could be honest with her without fearing for my life or job, so I nodded. "That would be, Mrs. Cullen."

She smiled at me so wide, I knew where Mr. Cullen—son, not husband—got his facial expressions from. It was pure pleasure. Easy. Powerful. "In that case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bella Swan. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you." Esme maneuvered those glowing green eyes at Carlisle. "I hope you don't have plans for lunch because we were planning on kidnapping my child," I noticed she didn't say _their_ child, "and you as well. I won't take no for an answer."

Well.

"My lunch can stay in the refrigerator," I told her, smiling nervously still.

"Perfect," she answered, winking at her husband. "Edward! I know you're here!"

And she disappeared into his office without a second thought.

Half an hour later, after the most awkward car ride of my life with Carlisle steering a four door Porsche around Orlando while arguing with Esme about what restaurant they were going to with Edward and I in the backseat silent, we were finally seated at an Italian restaurant I'd never even seen before. It screamed money and it made me just a little uncomfortable, but I didn't dwell on it as I took my seat between the two Cullen men.

We had barely started tearing into our salads when Esme turned those brilliant eyes at her son. "Are you eating regularly, darling?"

Tension rolled into Mr. Cullen's shoulders. "Yes, Mother."

"Are you sure? You're looking a little on the sallow side. Have you been feeling ill?"

"No," he answered stiffly.

"I'd like for you to be honest with me, Edward," she admonished him gently, tucking a forkful of Caesar salad into her mouth. "You don't tell me things like you used to."

Uh oh.

Mr. Cullen sighed, flicking his eyes toward his father before answering. "Can we talk about this later, please?"

She sighed but refused to take her eyes off of him. "I worry about you, you know. Ever since you broke it off with that—," she slid her eyes over to my direction, smiling sweetly, "_woman_, you've been in an awful mood. Don't think I haven't noticed. Isn't that right, Carlisle?"

To his credit, Carlisle didn't grin or even blink, he just stared back, but it was impossible not to take his silence as agreement.

"I won't even put Isabella on the spot, I'm sure she knows better than anyone that you've acting like a spoiled pumpkin."

I choked on my bite of salad, and then I wheezed trying to clear out my passage.

"See?" Esme Cullen asked, amusement tainting her tone purple.

Carlisle slid a glass of water over to me when I still hadn't been able to control my crazy choke/cough. After three drinks, I looked over in Mr. Cullen's direction, face flaming, to find him looking at me with a hint of a smile on his lips. Pressing the linen napkin to my mouth, I sucked back a breath and tried to control the urge to smile.

"I, umm, Mr. Cullen's a great boss," I spat out.

The most ladylike snort erupted from Esme. "What Isabella is trying to say is that you're acting like a workaholic prick."

Well.

I shifted my gaze over in his direction, feeling that flaming heat dipping down to my throat. "I don't think you're a prick," I told him, then blinked. "Anymore."

The eldest Mr. Cullen threw his head back and laughed out of my peripheral vision and luckily the younger Mr. Cullen smiled that huge, broad grin that he'd only shared with me once just recently. And just like the last time it had that epic, tidal pull that I was unable to fight, and it was useless to battle the pull of such an enigmatic smile from such a beautiful—and only somewhat asshole-ish—man.

"I'm always right, see?" Esme asked.

"Oh yes, you're always right," Carlisle laughed.

The rest of lunch went by uneventfully. There was no more ribbing or mention of things I probably shouldn't have known of. Instead, the Cullens talked about an upcoming charity that Mrs. Cullen was working on—sounded boring to me—and then went on about Jasper and Alice's pregnancy announcement just two weeks ago. It made me happy to see them speak so highly of two people I was incredibly fond of, and while I only added my two cents in every few minutes, I found myself enjoying the chemistry that parents and son had.

Though, lunch did answer a lot of questions as far as Mr. Cullen's personality's origins. Esme was extremely involved and curious about everything my boss was involved with. I could totally imagine her having an ironclad grip on his life when he was younger, and she was so pushy. So pushy. I had a feeling she would've been a better leader for MSC than Carlisle Cullen would've been. The woman was a likable bulldozer. The bulldozer gene being inherited by her only child.

Mr. Cullen and I were dropped off at the entrance to the building with a warm wish goodbye and a "I hope to see you soon" from Esme that had me deciding whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. We had just gotten into the elevator when the boss turned to look at me after pressing the button to our floor.

"I appreciate your honesty," he murmured with eyes to the ceiling.

Shifting to face his direction, that familiar embarrassed heat climbed down my nose and cheekbones. God, I was such an ass. I shouldn't have said anything. "I'm really sorry I said that in front of your parents," the words were panted out of me for sure.

He shook his head, still facing upward. "They know me better than anyone, and I know they appreciate honesty just as much as I do. It's hard to find that in their circle, you know."

I didn't know, but I didn't say that either.

Instead of continuing, Mr. Cullen shrugged to himself more than to me. "I'm sorry for being such a prick," that corner of his mouth quirked up just a little. "Jasper says I'm usually an asshole but not without reason."

I wanted to say _you are!_ But I didn't. I smiled at him and nodded. "It's fine. I know you aren't a complete prick." I smiled even wider at the use of the last word. There was not point in me thanking him for all the kind things he'd done since Atlanta and bringing it up made me feel awkward.

The elevator chimed when the doors opened, and we walked quietly toward the office. The nice Mr. Cullen opened the door for me and waved me forward. We each went to our own work areas with coy, awkward smiles in exchange and got back to work.

As soon as I sat down, I opened up my email like I usually did and that's when I saw it. An email from Human Resources.

**Subject: PRIVATE—Transfer Approved for March**

Holy shit.

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><p><strong>Two things real quick:<strong>

**A lot of you wrote me and I tried to write everyone back, but for some reason all of my PMs from August 15th to September 14th somehow disappeared, so if you wrote me in that time frame and didn't hear back, that's why. I'm sorry! I sucked at checking my email for the longest, and then I had that surprise. **

**AND for those of you wondering what's going on TPoB and TLRH, I was planning on announcing it now, but I'm going to wait a couple more weeks until I'm completely done with my original. **

**Blah. That's it. Thanks for being the best readers, ladies. You are definitely loved and appreciated. -Mariana**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hi, hi. It hasn't been two months again. Yay! Here's a shorter update. I had to type this with one hand and let me tell you, it was a pain in the ass but you guys are the best so I don't regret it. Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for all your kind words of encouragement! I love how much you're enjoying the slow build! xoxo**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Hello.**

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><p>As fate would have it, we called out each other's names at the same time.<p>

"Isabella!" was his bellow from the office.

Mine was a hesitant, "Mr. Cullen?"

Fuck nuggets!

Though I'd been looking forward to the transfer for months, I was suddenly extremely confused as to why I felt so…so… _guilty_. I was nervous, sure, but more than anything when my stomach churned in anxiety and I didn't have the sudden urge to throw packets of Post-It notes in the air in celebration, I knew something was wrong. With me.

I should've been ecstatic.

And I wasn't.

I felt bad. Like I was cheating on Mr. Cullen. Like I was failing him. And I had no idea what in the world would make me feel that way. While we were getting along about fifty times better, we weren't friends exactly.

But then again I'd told him things I'd never told anyone. He'd told me things I'm sure he hadn't told anyone either. That was kind of a friendship type thing wasn't it?

"Isabella!" he yelled again.

Oh, mother heifer.

I took a deep breath, swallowed my nerves and headed toward his office. The need to beat back that guilt was at the forefront of my brain. When I reached the doorway, he was sitting at his desk. Mr. Cullen's jacket was off and tossed over the back of one of the large chairs across from him. His hands were tented, elbows on the desk, forehead to his fingertips.

"Yes, sir?" I asked him carefully. Timidly. Cowardly Lion-y.

Those stunning green eyes slowly swept up from his desk, landing directly on my face. For a moment, he just sat there. Quiet. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Finally he flicked his fingers toward him.

He took another deep breath, exhaling loudly before sighing. "Can you please sit down?" he asked in a controlled voice.

I could tell he was strung tight. Just like when he'd lose his mind months before when something was wrong. But I took a seat across from him, hammering that awkward sensation plaguing my conscience to leave me the hell alone.

I could've played dumb. I should've. But I didn't want to do that. I owed him that much. So it took all of my courage to bring a tentative smile to my face. "Mr. Cullen, I was just notified that my transfer was approved."

He blinked.

With a long, shuddering breath, he sat back in his seat. The slim-fitting black button-down shirt he had on squeezed every plane on his chest and every muscle in his arms. Darting his eyes around the office, they finally landed on me again after a long minute.

The words that came out of his mouth only intensified that unknown feeling that accompanied the guilt, searing me straight through the chest. "Is there anything I can do to get you to change your mind?" he asked in a low voice.

It was my turn to blink and let out a long stream of air from between my lips. That traitorous beast I didn't recognize wanted to tell him yes. But my brain and that part of me that had really thought through my pending move prohibited it. I shook my head, smiling sadly. "No, sir."

"Nothing?" he asked, those pink lips twitching at the corners.

God. Here was this proud, stubborn man asking me something there really wasn't a response to. "There are more options for me to move up in the company in a different department," I explained to him, honestly. "That's why I asked for the transfer."

He opened his mouth, ready to argue I'm sure, before closing it. I had him. Mr. Cullen's was something of a genius. He knew I had a point.

"I don't start for another month and a half," I teold him like he didn't already know. "I'm sure you'll find someone a lot more qualified to fill the position."

That's when his gaze hardened. "You're perfectly qualified."

I was suddenly reminded of the many things he asked me to do that I had no idea about. Like using InDesign and Access. "There's people better than me."

"Isabella, being resourceful and hard-working isn't taught. Everything I ever set aside for you, you handled better than I expected," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll be lucky to find someone half as useful as you."

Well.

**Thursday**

Life is full of awkward moments.

Moments that make you cringe. Moments that make you regret getting out of bed that day. And then there are those moments that make you wish you'd never been born.

But the moment Mr. Cullen snapped at the annoying head of Loss Prevention… A-W-K-W-A-R-D.

Holy shit.

The pre-meeting reunion started off normally. The chairmen were meeting with the heads of ever department to go over figures and results for the end of the last fiscal year. As usual, Mr. Cullen and I had arrived at the large conference room way in advance.

Jasper was already there—also no surprise—beaming and radiating that wild Whitlock energy that I thought was the result of being a future daddy. He'd patted the seat next to him with a smile. "My two favorite colleagues."

I rolled my eyes and slid into the seat next to him, dropping my legal pad and on the table while Mr. Cullen took the seat on my other side. "Mr. Whitlock," I snorted. The only times I ever called him by his last name were when we were outside the confines of his office while at work.

"Whitlock," Mr. Cullen greeted his best friend so formally no one would've ever figured that these two went back a decade.

In no time, the conference room started trickling full. The marketing manager, Facilities manager, Finance, Benefits… all people I'd seen on my runs around the building to drop off paperwork, made it in. With only a few minutes left until the beginning of the meeting, Mr. Cullen leaned over the edge of his chair.

"Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee?" he asked in a whisper.

I cut him a glance out of the corner of my eye and nodded. "Sure."

The moment I got up from my chair, the douche bag I'd ignored a handful of times in the past, Laurent St. Claire, head of Loss Prevention walked in. In his mid-thirties and attractive in a metrosexual way that I wasn't too fond of—overly gelled hair, perfectly groomed goatee, rounded and shiny nails—he was arrogant. Blatantly, over-the-top arrogant. Where Mr. Cullen was a hard-working prick that didn't take shit from anyone and didn't allow a margin of error, Mr. St. Claire's unattractiveness stemmed from the fact that he thought he was God's gift to the world.

I'd ignored his hungry, inquisitive eyes each time I had to go down to his floor and deal with his secretary, but I'd heard him in the past when talking on the phone. And he was a prick with a sexy hint of a French-Canadian accent.

But a prick nonetheless.

Just like every other time, I darted my eyes away from him and went back to my boss with his coffee in hand.

"Bella," Jasper cooed in a whisper after I handed off the cup.

I wanted to ask him "What?" but we were in public, so I couldn't. Instead, I raised both eyebrows at him and tilted my head up.

"Would you get me a cup too, please?"

I sighed and nodded, making a fuss just because I could. "Still one sugar and one cream?"

He nodded, smiling while smoothing a hand over the short ends of his ponytail. "Please."

Turning back around, I poured Jasper's coffee and prepared it the way he liked. While serving him coffee hadn't been on my to-do list while as a temp, I'd still done it from time to time because I was nice and Jasper was a great manager. Two other assistants were alongside me at the table set up with refreshments. I snagged a bottle of water for myself and teetered back over to the table.

I was walking around the head of the table when a hand shot out to wrap around my wrist. "Sweetheart, coffee please. Two creams, one sugar."

Uhhh.

I could barely focus enough attention to figure out who the heck was touching me and telling me to make them coffee. My eyes flickered over to the source of the olive-skinned hand. Nothing came out of my mouth. I just stared at Laurent, Mr. St. Claire, dumbly because _seriously?_ Seriously?

I looked down the side of the table to see Mr. Cullen leaning back in his chair two seats away with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes hard.

"Umm…"

"Isabella," Mr. Cullen called out to me.

I looked back over at the Laurent, taking that as my cue. "I'm sorry, I'm busy."

"Surely you can get me a cup," he drawled in response, flashing a smile a hundred other women would have fawned all over. Except me.

"Laurent, the meeting is about to start. Surely you can make your own cup instead of asking Isabella to do something you can do yourself," Mr. Cullen snapped out.

Owned!

I had to bite my lip to keep from making a face as I made my way back to my spot. Jasper took the cup from me, amusement written all over his face as he pulled out my chair. Usually I would've made faces with him but in that instant, I glanced over at my boss instead.

He was still in the same position, arms over his three-piece striped navy suit, dark green eyes piercing a line straight in douche-bag's path. He tilted his head in my direction, face impassive.

And I couldn't help it. The corner of my mouth pulled up just the slightest and after a moment, he mirrored my expression. I mouthed out the word, "Thanks." In response, one side of his mouth pulled just a fraction of an inch higher before he nodded once.

The rest of the meeting went by uneventfully. Boring on top of boring. Two hours later, after yawning my way through a discussion that I'd lost all interest in, Jasper and I walked back to the elevators together when Mr. Cullen stayed in the conference room talking to the COO.

"That guy is such a fucking tool," Jasper noted the moment we were alone in the hallway. It was unsaid that he was referring to St. Claire.

I nodded my agreement. "There's something about him I don't like."

Those blonde eyebrows went up so far they almost reached his hairline. "That would be three of us. Edward hates him." Turning to look behind us, he raised his eyebrows again. Jasper rarely raised his eyebrows, so I knew this was going to be good. Real good. "He's been looking for a way to get rid of him for a while now but that's between us."

"What'd he do?" I whispered, pressing the call button for the elevator.

Jasper sighed, but didn't say a word until we got into the car. With another heavy sigh, he gritted his teeth before speaking. "He's an asshole," Jasper said. "Obviously. But don't say a word, all right? Not even to Angela, Bella. He even had the nerve to take Kate to a dinner party Edward was attending after he broke it off with her."

I sucked in a breath. Both because I couldn't understand how dumb a human being could be and because Jasper was spilling secrets. He never ratted anything out, so on the rare occasion that he did, you took advantage of it. Big time. "Seriously?"

He nodded.

"That crazy—" _bitch_, I wanted to say but settled for "woman?"

And then Jasper laughed. "You can't hide real crazy for too long, Bella."

**Friday**

"Fuck my fucking life!"

I did it. I kicked my tire like that would solve the problem going on beneath the hood. Nearly thirty minutes had passed since I'd made my way to the parking lot to leave for the weekend. Just like a year and a half before, people pretended not to see me poking at things underneath the hood of my truck.

Fucking assholes.

I'd cry if I didn't hate doing it so much.

After four calls to Angela without an answer, I really wasn't sure what the hell I was going to do. My parents lived two hours away and I'd cancelled my Triple A service months before. And it didn't help I couldn't tell the difference between a spark plug and a screw.

With a resigned sigh, I slowly made my way back toward the elevators. My best bet would be to call a cab and speak to my Dad over the weekend to see what he recommended I do. I'd barely been standing waiting for a car for half a minute when the doors opened to reveal Mr. Cullen standing there.

Carrying a garment bag over one shoulder, and a briefcase that cost more than my car in the other.

And wearing fitted jeans, one of the band t-shirts I'd bought him, and New Balance's.

I felt like I was in The Twilight Zone.

"Is everything okay?" he asked me immediately while I stood there taking in the fact that he owned jeans and tennis shoes. I swear I probably wouldn't have been as surprised if I'd seen him in leather pants and holding a whip.

Focusing back on him, I shook my head. "My car won't start."

"Battery?"

I shook my head. "It's new." My hand went up to sweep over my face in frustration. "I'm going to call a cab."

There was no hesitation in his response when he voiced his suggestion. "I'll take you home."

"Uhh—what?"

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><p><strong>Still holding out on my news for TLRH and TPoB. I'm still working on my other stuff at the moment. But next update *cross your fingers*<strong>

**Speaking of my other stuff... I'm looking for another reader to look over my original for feedback. Maybe two people? I only have a few requirements (heh). 1) Please be familiar with my writing and therefore like me. I don't think you'd be reading this if you hated me but maybe. You never know. 2)A fan of contemporaries. 3) Have time to do it. Everyone is busy. Trust me, I get it and I don't have a life. If you're interested, shoot me an email marianazapata at live dot com or PM me! I pay in eternal love, hugs, and kisses. **


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey guys! Here's a short chapter. It was either this or waiting another week :D Thank you all for being so amazing and wonderful. I'm working my way through my PMs, so if you haven't heard back from me yet, give me a few hours! To my fellow Americans, HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Be safe and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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><p>"Are you...going out?"<p>

God, this was awkward. I could think of a hundred different situations I'd rather be forcing myself through than a ride along in Mr. Cullen's Jag. But what other option did I have? And he'd been so reasonable about why I should take a ride with him instead of calling a cab.

So I was trying to make the best out of a weird situation.

By making small talk. Wonderful.

"Jasper and I are going to a Symphony X show," Mr. Cullen explained. His voice was fused with tightly reined excitement. "I'm going to pick him up, and then head to the concert."

"That sounds like fun." It did compared to my planned evening spent in front of the television watching an entire season of _Dexter_. With Angela dating pretty regularly, I'd lost my fellow loser.

He nodded, keeping his intent gaze on the lines of traffic in front of us. "Do you have plans?" he asked in a strange voice. "Hot date?"

Oh God. The awkward was overwhelming. Did he really just ask that? Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, the pink that stained the angles of his high cheekbones told me that _yes,_ yes he had just asked me that ridiculous question.

I couldn't help but snort. Loud. So loud he turned to look at me for a split second before smiling so wide in return, I thought his face would stretch painfully.

"I don't know why I just asked you that," he admitted with that blinding grin before blushing a pure salmon color. "Jesus."

Laughter burst out of me at the look on his face and admission. Three gasps of air in later, something as rare as the Abominable Snowman rang throughout the confines of Mr. Cullen's luxury sedan—he laughed. It was loud but not obnoxiously so, and it was such a rich noise, it threw me completely off guard before making me laugh even harder.

"I don't know what a hot date is," I told him once I got my laughter under control a little. "The last date I went on, we went to the movies and the poor guy fell asleep about fifteen minutes into the movie."

Mr. Cullen made a choking sound. "I did that once. Though when I woke up, my date was gone."

God. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I tried calling her when I woke up. When she answered, she told me I was the worst date she'd ever had and hung up on me."

I winced, mirroring the grimace on his face. "What a—," I instantly stopped myself from saying bitch and added, "jerk. That sucks."

He shrugged. "She wasn't my type anyway."

The question shot out of my mouth like a javelin, and in retrospect I should've been glad it was a question and not a statement along the lines of _I forgot you like psychopath blondes. _But it didn't help that I asked something that was absolutely none of my business. "What's your type?"

I didn't care. I swear I didn't. Why would I care enough to ask what type of females Mr. Cullen liked?

Thankfully he didn't think anything of it because he answered immediately. "A real one."

Oh dear God. Mr. Cullen was reliving _Lars and the Real Girl._

"Jesus. That came out all wrong," he snickered. "I meant that I'd like someone I'm dating to have their own aspirations. Their own goals. I don't want to be with another woman who cares about how well MSC did at the end of the fiscal year, or what charity dinner is next."

His words stirred my brain. "Mr. Cullen, you know your family is one of the wealthiest in Florida, right? You'll probably be CEO way before you're fifty. Your family has a wing at the hospital named after them. I think you're kind of screwed."

He shot me a look that had some sort of defeat in it, and that made me feel bad instantly. What I told him was the truth. Almost everyone knew who the Cullens were.

But the more I got know him, the more I recognized that Mr. Cullen didn't exactly fit into the role he'd been born into. Work-wise he was a beast. He knew how to lead with an iron fist, and it was impossible not to recognize that he really enjoyed working.

Underneath that shell though, Mr. Cullen was socially lacking. I couldn't imagine what he was like in a personal, social setting. I didn't think he knew how to shut off being Mr. Cullen and transitioning to being Edward, unless he was around certain people. There was no doubt in my mind he wasn't a fan of charity balls, brown nosers, and all the other crap and obligation that went with being wealthy and philanthropic. Why wouldn't he want someone 'normal'?

"Well, maybe you aren't screwed but it'll be a little harder for you to find someone who doesn't know you're the youngest CFO in history."

"I'm not the youngest," he scoffed. I smiled at him, but the look he gave me back was strange until he quirked that little side smile. "I have faith my luck will turn around," he said it so confidently, it didn't leave any room for disbelief. "Are you...busy this weekend?"

"No. Maybe just calling around tomorrow for a tow truck."

"Why don't you get another car?" he asked casually.

Like it was that easy. My credit wasn't exactly phenomenal, but I wasn't about to tell my boss that. I didn't even tell Angela that, though I didn't have a doubt she knew. Her credit was probably as bananas as mine was. "Maybe."

He looked over in my direction again, almost as if he knew I wasn't telling him something but he didn't press. Not that that would break me anyway. "I'll figure it out," I told him.

"Which exit am I taking?" he asked, veering his car off the exit ramp.

I gave him directions the rest of the way to my apartment. The complex was close to the freeway, so it only took a couple of minutes to make it past the gate and in fron to fmy building. I didn't live in the lap of luxury. I was content with the fact that the gate required a security code to get in, and that the pool was cleaned often enough, but that was the beginning and the end of the extras of my apartment building. Though there weren't many people outside, the handful that were looked at the Jaguar suspiciously as Mr. Cullen parked the car in the closest empty spot he could find.

"Thank you so much for the ride," I thanked him, smiling genuinely. "I really appreciate it."

Mr. Cullen nodded quietly. "Not a problem."

"Have fun at the concert," I said as I was getting out.

He gave me that side smile in return as I shut the door. With another wave in his direction, I made my way toward my apartment. I made it up the stairs and as I was unlocking my door, I looked through the breezeway that overlooked the parking below and saw that the Jaguar was still there. Not sure whether he could see me or not because the light was casting a glare off his windshield, I waved anyway before getting inside and locking the door.

Not even two hours later, in the middle of my first episode of _Dexter_, my phone beeped a text message notification. The number on the screen wasn't one that I had saved under my contacts, but it was a number I had memorized from the hundreds of times I'd attached it in an email.

It was Mr. Cullen's.

_Your vehicle is at the Auto Surgeon on Main. Let me know if you need a ride on Monday._

I swear that blood rushed to my ears, flooding them until they pounded in time with my heartbeat. Somehow I managed to text him back though I couldn't remember doing it ten minutes later.

_Thank you so much. I'll let you know :)_

But first, the only person that was going to know anything was Ang. I had her number on my screen less than five seconds later.

"What's up, Fella?"

I blurted out what Mr. Cullen had just text me in two breaths.

"Yeah?" she asked, her tone higher than normal.

"Yes."

Angela made a humming noise in her throat. "And he took you home?"

"Yes."

She hummed some more. "Well..." she trailed off.

"Well what?" I asked her a little too sharply.

"I don't think you're going to like what I'm about to say."

Oh God. "Just say it, Ang."

The little twat chuckled. "I'm a little jealous. Actually, I'm pretty freaking jealous, but then I tell myself that I'm getting laid tonight and you aren't."

"Angela," I grumbled her name like that would speed up her little spiel.

She just sighed. "I think he likes you, Bella."

I kind of expected the world to come crashing down the moment the words were out in the air.

But luckily, she kept yapping on. "Or maybe he just feels guilty for being such a gigantic douche."

And, I felt all the air leave my lungs. It was a miracle she'd kept going. Because her second idea sounded just about right. He'd been the ruler of Dickdom for so long, it had been nearly impossible to see that he wasn't a complete prick.

"Yeah..." I agreed. "That's it." I wasn't used to people doing nice things for me. Extraordinarily nice things. Like get me a scholarship and find someone to pick up my car to fix it. Those were nice things.

And that's when it hit me again. Mr. Cullen wasn't used to nice things either and yet somehow, he'd done those for me. Damn it.

The moment I hung up with Ang, I sent another text out.

_Thank you so much for everything. I really appreciate it._

It took nearly half an hour to get a reply, but all it said was _You've very welcome, Bella._

It didn't hit me that he called me Bella and not Isabella.

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><p><strong>I post random crap on Twitter: twitter dot commarianazapata_**

**I also post random crap on my blog: www dot marianazapata dot com**


	28. Chapter 28

**Hey guys! Here's another short update. I wanted it to be longer but I've been so busy lately I haven't had much time to dedicate to TD, so I hope you understand. Thank you guys so much for being so sweet and supportive. I can't even begin to describe how much your reviews mean to me. I try to write everyone back when I can, but I know I miss a few of you guys. Please know that I read and appreciate every single one. Thank you! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but everything other than the names is mine.**

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><p>What's that old saying? When it rains, it pours? Or something along those lines?<p>

I'd had times in my life that made me go back to that. Like the time my car messed up and I broke my leg a week later. Car repair and a hospital visit without insurance? For months I felt like I couldn't breathe with the astronomical debt.

But when Monday morning rolled around... the saying slapped me in the face on a smaller scale.

If it wasn't bad enough that I overslept by an hour, it only got worse when I realized that my alarm—my cell phone—had gone dead overnight. With no other way to call Angela for a ride, or hell, even to call a cab, I had to take the bus.

The public bus.

A trip that normally took less than twenty minutes took slightly over an hour and included a man spilling hot coffee on my arm when the bus jerked to a stop.

I could only imagine what I looked like when Billy, one of the security guards at the reception desk, raised an eyebrow at me as I stormed passed him.

I was out of breath, I'd taken the fastest shower in history and tied my hair up into what could've been considered a half-assed knot, and I wasn't even positive that I'd put on clean clothes in my panic to get ready. So the moment I walked by the break room and caught a whiff of coffee, I cursed. Yanking the door to the office open, I learned very quickly that I wasn't the only one having a bad day.

"What do you mean you didn't get the reports?"

Slapping a hand over the red welt that lingered from the man's spilled coffee, I hoofed it to my desk. There was no way in hell I was going to jump into the dragon's lair when I was already late and he was pissed off.

It was impossible to ignore the frustration in his tone as he rattled off sharp word after sharp word while I settled into my desk as quickly as possible. My computer had just started logging in when I heard, "Isabella?"

Only it wasn't in the same tone I'd gotten used to over the course of the last couple of months.

It was the asshole tone.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

God. Should I have gone straight to his office? I was never late. Not really. And I was only... damn it! Two hours late. Fuck.

When he didn't respond, I forced myself to get up and head to his lair.

Mr. Cullen was pulling at the tips of his short hair, eyes screwed into slits at the same time his jaw clenched. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation why you're... two hours late." He folded his hands neatly on top of his desk, the cuffs of his crisp white shirt visible under the sleeves of his gray pinstripe jacket.

"I'm sorry. I overslept—"

He blinked. "You should've called," he interjected.

"My phone went dead—"

"You don't have a house phone?"

Holy shit. The tone of his voice made me feel like I was stupid and it pissed me off. "I don't have a home phone." Why would I? It was an unnecessary expense.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "You overslept two hours?"

"No. The bus takes forever, Mr. Cullen." And I hope you had a great time at the show on Friday, asshole.

And then he didn't say anything.

Those green eyes narrowed for a moment and I expected him to accuse me of lying to him, but it didn't happen. Slowly, like a knot unraveling, his shoulders relaxed. Those structured facial muscles that lined his deep set jaw loosened. His lips curled behind his teeth.

His simple response was, "I see."

Though I had to fight the urge to flick him off for getting so pissed off over me being late, I stood there and waited. Waited for him to rip me a new one or whatever path I think he'd mentally prepared himself for.

Mr. Cullen cleared his throat and darted his eyes to the floor. The silence ate up the room and left bones made of awkward marrow. With a shuddering breath, he sat up in his chair a little straighter. "Did you send off the distribution reports for District B?"

What the hell was he talking about? "You mean District E?"

"No, District B."

I shook my head at him. "No. I sent the distribution report for E on Friday." Because it was what he'd asked for. I had the email in my inbox. It'd taken me almost the entire day to compile them the way he wanted.

He blinked those green eyes at me for a split second before darting them over to his computer screen. After ten clicks of his white mouse, Mr. Cullen reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. "Can you please get B done as soon as possible?"

Like I ever took my time with them period. _Take a deep breath, Bella._

I nodded slowly, taking in the weak aversion of his eyes. "I'll get on it," I told him, trying my best not to think about how I missed the version of Mr. Cullen I'd had for the last group of weeks.

The report took me more than half the day to finish and that was with me working through lunch, eating crap from the snack machine at my desk. We didn't speak to each other at all. Where he'd usually nod at me as he came in and out of the office, he pretended to mess with his phone instead.

Even after I sent him the damn report, he didn't say anything. So I started working on the next district on my list.

Frustrated and hungry, I didn't even bother calling Angela during the day to ask her for a ride home. It would take her forever to drive across downtown to pick me up. As soon as the clock hit five o'clock, I grabbed my stuff and stormed out of the building when I heard Mr. Cullen on the phone. The last thing I wanted was to hear him bitch at me about how I should stay until seven to make up the hours I'd missed that morning.

I wanted to tell everything and everyone to go fuck themselves.

The bus ride home was better than the morning one though it took even longer than the first trip. But since all I wanted to do was get home, I didn't care. My shoulders burned, I was pretty sure my shirt smelled, and I realized when I stripped out of my work clothes that I'd put my underwear on inside out. With a pounding headache that'd appeared halfway home, I put on my favorite pair of purple bike shorts and white tank top to make dinner.

When the knock on my door came.

I knew it wasn't Angela because my phone was finally plugged in and she would've called first.

Looking through the peephole, I wasn't really sure what to think. It was Mr. Cullen. For a moment I thought about ignoring him but what would be the point? I was in a bad mood before he'd gotten pissed off—rightfully so if I really thought about it, because two hours late without calling wasn't the same as fifteen minutes.

Opening the door, I gave him a tired smile. A frustrated, tired smile.

He gave me one in return as I took in the fact that his suit jacket was missing, the sleeves of what had been his nice stark white shirt were rolled up, and the first two buttons at the top were undone, giving me a hint of smooth white skin and light brown chest hair. He held up a large plastic bag and sighed deeply. "I meant to buy you lunch today," he said simply.

"Why?" I asked him a little too quickly, sounding like way more of a bitch than I intended to.

"For being a," he gave me a weak smile, "prick this morning."

Well then.

"I'm sorry. I had a bad morning, and when you didn't show up I thought maybe I'd run you off when my calls went straight to voicemail—"

Wait. He'd called my phone when I hadn't shown up?

"I should've known you wouldn't just stop coming to work even if I'd done something to upset you. I was worried." He paused. "I'm sorry for being rude," he apologized.

And I think in that moment the world really did come crashing down. Mr. Cullen had been worried about me? Something in my chest fluttered in acknowledgement. I could go weeks without calling my parents and they wouldn't think twice about it. Angela was really the only person who demanded a call every other day and since she'd started dating that guy regularly, it seemed like two days had turned into three.

There's no doubt in my mind that my lips moved wordlessly.

" I planned on apologizing when I drove you home but you were gone by the time I finished up. Either way, I just wanted to drop this off and say that I hope you forgive me for losing my temper." He held the bag up higher, leaving it out for me to take.

I did. Then the question came out. "Do you want to come in?"

A hesitant smile crept over the corner of his lips. "Okay."

Okay? Okay. I waved him in and closed the door behind us, ushering him toward the small couch directly across from the door. My apartment was pretty small. It was a studio, so everything I owned was out in the open for him to see. My queen sized bed shoved against the far left wall just a few feet away, my orange comforter twisted around pale yellow sheets.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked him after he sat down, placing the plastic bag on the coffee table.

"Water?"

I nodded at him, flashing him a fragile smile. Grabbing two plates and somehow also balancing two glasses of water, I settled onto the couch next to him. A cheap three-seater I'd bought at a discount furniture store a few years back, the cushions were a little saggy and a lot comfortable.

Mr. Cullen had already taken out the two to-go containers from the bag. One was filled with some sort of salad and the other looked to have pasta.

"Are you hungry?"

He hesitated and I rolled my eyes.

"You're hungry."

It was more than enough food and it wasn't like I didn't have things in the fridge if I was still hungry. Dicing he food in pretty much half, I scooped the portions onto plates and slid the dish over to him. I passed him the spoon and kept the fork because I was nice, but maybe not that nice.

I turned on my 32-inch and asked over my shoulder, "Are you a Sheldon Cooper fan?"

His eyebrows went up. "You mean a Mini Cooper?"

Oh lord. "No, no, no." I smiled at him wide, pressing start on the remote to watch the episodes I'd recorded. "You'll see."

That was the first night I hung out with Mr. Cullen.

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><p><strong>Oh, Sheldon Cooper. How I love thee. <strong>

**xo -mariana**

**twitter dot com slash marianazapata_**

**I don't facebook often but when I do... facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites**


	29. Chapter 29

Hi, hi, hi. Here's a very short update but something is better than nothing, right? Riiiight :-) You'll hopefully get a longer chapter for Christmas (HOPEFULLY!) This is just for you guys being so sweet to me. Your support and love for this story and their characters constantly amazes me. I love you guys! Seriously, you rock! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. You know this.

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><p>We were in the elevator heading toward a meeting with upper management—<em>boring!<em>–when it happened. There were two other employees in the car by the time we got in and one looked clearly sick. Pale. Sweaty. Weak. The flu was written all over the poor man's face.

They greeted us with polite nods and resumed their conversation. Just as the doors pinged on the floor the two men were getting off on, I heard the healthy one say, "You need to rest and drink plenty of fluids..."

And then it happened. Right as the doors were closing behind the employees, Mr. Cullen muttered, "What else would I drink? Gases? Solids? Ionized plasma?"

I swear to God I didn't mean to laugh, but that would've been like fighting Death when his hand was wrapped firmly around you. It was impossible. Inevitable.

Nearly a week had passed since Mr. Cullen had come by my apartment to apologize for being a pissed off boss. Four days since he'd sat on my sofa until well after ten at night and watched a small marathon of _The Big Bang Theory_. That night was burned into my irises and ear canals.

The memory of Mr. Cullen relaxing against my sofa, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar buttons undone, legs spread comfortably wide as he laughed. Laughed! I could still see the grin on his face, the way his mouth opened wide each time he laughed. It was completely uninhibited. Rich and full and so completely different from the man who sat primly at his office and ate pizza with a fork.

He'd look at me over his shoulder when Dr. Sheldon Cooper would say something particularly ridiculous and give me that one-sided curl of his mouth he shared with me from time to time. I wasn't sure whether he was looking to see if I was laughing too—I was—or maybe to see if I was judging him, but I'd smile back at him each time. How could I not?

It was amusement. Pure, guileless amusement.

And every afternoon since then, he'd taken me home after work. The day after he came over, I'd been sitting at my desk around lunch time when he walked by, dropping a pile of files on my desk.

"I'll take you home," he said before he was gone.

Since then, he'd done the same thing each day. I'd called the auto shop and found out my car wouldn't be ready until the middle of next week so I was kind of at a loss. Ang had been taking me to work each morning and Mr. Cullen would bring me back. It was rare that we talked on the way to my place, only because he was usually on the phone bitching at someone for something that was out of my control. The man's life revolved around numbers and reports.

He hadn't gone back inside my apartment since that first day so I was surprised when he whispered one of my favorite lines under his breath. Completely fucking surprised.

At the sound of my laughter, he cocked his head in my direction, grinning just a little. But the sparkle in his green eyes said more than his cheek muscles did.

"I love that line."

A faint pink blush spread across his cheeks. "I just watched the episode last night," he admitted. "I think I might be addicted."

"There's worse things to be addicted to." I smiled.

His eyes widened right before he smirked. Smirked! Since when did he know how to smirk?

It was nothing short of a miracle that the elevator doors pinged open right then, and we had to make the rest of our journey to the conference room in weird silence. By the time we made it in, ten minutes early, Rosalie—the receptionist I'd met some time in the past—was in there with the COO already and a handful of other people I saw from time to time in other departments.

The meeting was two hours of my life I would never get back. Two hours of sitting in a seat and fighting the urge to stay awake while taking notes on the key points they covered. Blah, blah, blah and more blah.

When the meeting ended, Mr. Cullen stayed seated talking to the head of Purchasing. I'm not sure why I touched his shoulder to let him know I was going to head back, but I did. He looked up at me and gave me that short nod he usually shared with everyone. There was something different in his eyes that I couldn't recognize though...

I grabbed my notepad and just as I was heading out, Rosalie followed after me.

"Hey stranger," she said, catching up.

We weren't exactly friends—or at all—so I thought it was a little strange she was being so casual. "Hey. How are you?"

She shrugged. "Fine." With a glance behind us, she raised an eyebrow and leaned toward me. "So I heard you were transferring."

Why was that news? "I sure am."

She let out a low whistle, her perfect red lips puckering. "Girl, I don't blame you..."

_What?_

"I overheard Bossman talking to his wife about the mess that went down between you and the ice princess and," she lifted up a hand like _c'mon_. "I would've sued him and her."

God.

"He's a fine piece of man but a complete a-hole. I don't know how you've made it so long—"

And I'd had enough of her minute long rant. Was she freaking kidding me? My rage had shot up through my spine in record time. It was blinding and burned the receptors in my nerves, further pissing me off.

I was a private person, and even if I wasn't a private person, I wouldn't want my business floating around the building.

But what surprised me was that the fact that they were talking about me wasn't the only thing that pissed me off. She'd just called Mr. Cullen an asshole. I could call him an asshole because I knew him. Knew him and his bullshit firsthand. He was _my _boss. My asshole. I could call him that everyday for the rest of my life but this woman didn't even _know_ him. He'd been polite to her the last time I'd seen them interact.

This bitch.

Knowing that I was at work and that I didn't want anything to come back to me for talking shit to her—she wasn't old bimbo Lauren after all—I settled for just blinking in her direction.

And then I cleared my throat. "I'm transferring because I want more room to grow. I want to move up." I said the words slowly so that she'd understand what I was trying to explain. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk badly about my boss."

It was her turn to blink at me. If she'd thought to find a gossiping buddy in me, then she was wrong. Mr. Cullen was an asshole but a territorial part of me explained that I was the only one—and his parents, obviously—that had that right. He was a prick that had started growing a conscience over time.

The elevator doors opened, and I couldn't even remember pressing the button, but I went in anyway. It was awkward when she shuffled in after me, her blue eyes going everywhere but in my direction. The tension suffocated the small car.

A-W-K-W-A-R-D.


	30. Chapter 30

**Hello lovelies! Here's another short update :-) Better than nothing, right? Yes! Haha. Thank you all for being so amazing. I'm seriously blown away by your love and support of TD. There are no words to describe my love for you all. You're all champions of the Assward! Just a couple of things, I swear.**

**-Happy belated birthday to MissThespian! (I couldn't get this done in time for your birthday so consider it a belated one.)**

**-Everyone thank myheroin1 for sucking me into doing her bidding by requesting this as a Christmas present. **

**-I know chapters are short, but I'm trying my best to build things up. Things will get wrapped up in time but I'm a fan of the journey and not the destination. Who else is with me? :D**

**-Andddd (sigh) I might be off on my weeks/days a little with where this is landing. Sooooo... let's ignore that. My brain is fried. Just go with me here.**

**Anyway, ENJOY! And thank you for being the best!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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><p>I could count on two hands the things that I hate.<p>

Rude people.

The word "diarrhea."

Actual diarrhea.

Thongs.

Skinny jeans on men.

Anchovies.

And, like most women who tended to be single all the fucking time, Valentine's Day.

Guh.

Fuck. Me.

The problem with hating Valentine's Day is that it's fine when you have someone else in your life who hates it. My person had been Angela. Me and Ang rallied in our hate of the color pink, balloons, overpriced flowers, and chocolates that made my skin break out. For years, we'd spend the night at one of our place's to watch scary movies and scarf down take-out from an overpriced restaurant. Angela was my boyfriend, my girlfriend, my best friend.

And now the bitch had a boyfriend.

And that bitch suddenly had plans for Valentine's Day.

I was happy for her. Truly, genuinely happy that she was dating someone who thought her eccentricities were cute—she liked putting ketchup on her sandwiches—and was just a nice guy. If anyone deserved to be in a happy relationship, it was her.

My problem was that now I had no one. Not really. Where we'd spend three or four days out of the week together, I now only saw her maybe once. If I was really lucky, twice. But that was it. So I didn't even bother asking her what we were doing on the Day of the Damned.

I'd donned my usual black: a black dress that hit me right below the knee and looked like something I could wear to a funeral.

When I got to work that morning, Mr. Cullen came in and raised an eyebrow at me. I'm sure I had a face that looked like I was constipated, and I was slumped over the keyboard.

"Good morning, Isabella," he greeted right in front of my desk. He had his briefcase tucked under his armpit, the opposite hand was busy with his cellphone clutched in it.

"Morning, Mr. Cullen." Yep, I definitely sounded sullen.

But I was paying enough attention to realize that his lips started twitching. "Having a bad morning?"

I grunted. "No." I was kind of being a bitch and it wasn't the poor man's fault. "Thank you for asking though."

His eyes swept across my desk leisurely. Mr. Cullen took two steps forward before pausing again. "Is your car working fine?"

In my one-day-a-week date with Ang, she'd taken me to pick up my car after work from the mechanic. After an astronomical bill that was well into the nearly two thousand dollar range, I'd gagged but thanked God that I'd gotten a scholarship for school so I could afford it. Otherwise...I didn't even want to think about it.

"Yes, fortunately." Repressing my inner grump that was angry at the world in general, I smiled at him. "Thanks again for all my rides."

I didn't know where Mr. Cullen lived but I sure as heck knew it wasn't on my side of town. He had to have been going out of his way to pick me up and drop me off for more than a week, and I was extremely, ridiculously grateful.

He shrugged at me, the corners of his mouth tilt up in that familiar way that I'd grown accustomed to. Six steps later, he'd disappeared into his office and I had to get up to get his coffee. Despite the fact that I wasn't in the most awesome mood—I was still being a bitter bitch—I welcomed the pile of work that was waiting in my inbox.

It was one of those days where I only managed to take a thirty minute lunch in the break room, watching as Mr. Cullen made his way in and out of the office three times to attend meetings that I was spared from. On his second trip back in at a little after three in the afternoon, I was focused in on a graphic I was putting together for a presentation of his, when he paused.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" he asked me casually. It was the middle of the week, so I knew it wasn't like it was Friday and there _might_ be a possibility that I had something going on.

I grunted again, sliding my eyes over in his direction. "Not anymore." I looked at him, taking in the slim cut of his three-piece suit. All matte black lines on top of more black. Being a man that was always dressed up, I don't know why I thought for a split second that he looked nicer than usual. "And you?"

Mr. Cullen looked at me for a long moment. Those emerald green eyes were calculating before he spoke. "No. This is a commercialized holiday. I'm annoyed with all the flowers and balloons I've seen throughout the office. All the pink and the red makes me nauseous." He said the words so crisply, I knew he was being completely honest.

What did I do? I snickered, and then laughed. "I completely agree with you." And in a bout of insanity, I pointed at my black ensemble. "Which is why I'm wearing black today."

His lips twitched again but this time their movement was more fluid. He was fighting the smile but losing it slowly. Mr. Cullen stood there in that thick, silent fog before saying, "I need that presentation before you leave."

O-kay.

The next two and a half hours went by fast, fortunately. I'd just emailed Mr. Cullen the folder with notes and the presentation I'd created for the next day, when I heard the door swing open. I knew Mr. Cullen was still in a meeting. He'd told me he'd be gone the rest of the day after he'd left for the very last meeting.

Rounding the corner was a man in a pale brown shirt and matching pants.

And he was holding a vase of purple and white flowers.

I don't know why my first thought was, _Holy shit, the psycho sent Mr. Cullen flowers for Valentine's Day._

Really, I have no idea why that's what I assumed. But the man smiled at me, hitching the large collection of lilies, carnations, mums, and something purple that looked really neat.

"Ms. Bella Swan?" he asked, arms outstretched to plant the bouquet on the edge of my desk.

I flashed him a surprised smile. "Yes?"

The man set the flowers down, and then handed me a tablet to sign on. I signed my name but kept glancing at the bouquet out of the corner of my eye.

"Happy Valentine's Day," the man called out before leaving.

Uhhh.

I knew Angela hadn't sent them to me. Ang was too cheap to send flowers on Valentine's Day. And my parents... please.

There was a neat little white envelope tucked between the flowers that I plucked out. A small lavender purple card was inside.

_Bella,_

_Every girl deserves flowers on Valentine's Day._

_Lunch soon!_

_Regards, _

_Esme Cullen_

There were a couple things that hit me at once.

Esme Cullen was a sweet lady.

My boss had a big mouth. A _huge_ mouth.

But for all of his hate for the holiday, his intentions had been...God. I couldn't even think about it.

_Mr. Cullen had a huge mouth_. I'd leave my thought there.

And for the first time since elementary school where teachers forced all of the kids to give everyone cards or candy for this stupid day, I smiled.

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><p><strong>And my dog puked on my hand while I was rereading this to post. Did I need to share that? Yes. <strong>

**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and to those who don't, enjoy your days off from work! xoxo -M**


	31. Chapter 31

**FF Fail! I don't know what happened or why it didn't post last night but... taa-daa! Thanks for those who let me know!**

**Hi, ladies! Sorry it's been... a very long time :) I was sick, uninspired, busy on other things, and then my boyfriend sucked the time out of me (in random order). Forgive me. Thank you all so, so much for your love and support of TD. It seriously amazes me every single day how supportive you guys are. THANK YOU! I love you and appreciate it all! I know this is short again but meh. We're progressing slowly!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but Assward is minee.**

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><p>Before I knew it, March had creeped its way into the year.<p>

Between the eight to most-of-the-time six o'clock schedule I'd been working, twelve credit hours of online classes I was balancing in the hours before midnight, and doing everything that life entailed (like laundry and grocery shopping and something called sleep), February had rolled through like a low tide. Quiet and unassuming.

My court date with the psycho bitch was coming up at the end of the week. I'd be transferring back to Jasper's department in no time. And I had mid-terms.

_That_ was all a little overwhelming.

I felt like I barely had time to breathe. It was almost as if I had to pencil in things like getting some Vitamin D into my schedule.

And to top it all off, Mr. Cullen had been moodier than the pregnant woman I'd worked with downstairs.

I shouldn't have been surprised. His patience had gradually been wearing thinner and thinner each day. His meticulous eye and reign of terror over management and employees alike escalated daily.

Just the day before he'd asked the head of shipping over the phone if he was aware of "this thing called a calendar that allows you to keep track of what day it is," when he hadn't received several reports on the day they'd been required.

I may have sat at my desk and stifled a laugh. Was he an asshole? Definitely. But the real question was, was he being an asshole toward me? Not really. I figured if anyone had a right for get-out-of-asshole passes at MSM it would be me.

So, I could laugh.

We'd been so busy with paperwork and different tax crap the accounting department had been sending up hourly over the last couple of weeks, that he was usually out of the office, so that might have been a plus for me as well. There hadn't been any other jokes of visits home or anything, but I'd been so busy with my own lifesz that it hadn't really hit me.

This routine we'd set up had grown to be so second nature that I started taking for granted how comfortable I'd gotten in my position.

Until Mr. Cullen had dropped a handful of files on my desk one morning.

"Choose one."

I looked up at him, ignoring the Office Depot order I'd been in the middle of compiling, and tried my best not to frown. "Excuse me, Mr. Cullen?"

He tipped his head down, hands lax on either side of the navy blue pants he was wearing. I noticed right then that he'd taken off the matching jacket he'd been wearing when he first walked in.

And then I realized it.

He. Had. Suspenders. On.

Some women liked men who dressed up. Some women liked men in uniform. Some women liked hipster guys, guys who wore dark denim and Affliction shirts, or nerdy guys.

I just liked men for whatever reason. I didn't have a type as long as they wore deodorant and were reasonably attractive. I valued a personality more than I did looks by far.

But I had kryptonite. And my kryptonite when the opposite sex was involved was suspenders. It didn't matter if the man was old enough to be my grandfather, I still looked though I thought it was more cute than attractive.

The point was, any man _not_ old enough to be my father or grandfather that wore those two bands of elastic was up for grabs where my eyes were concerned.

So it was impossible for me to _not_ look and _not_ appreciate the fact that my boss, who for all intents and purposes, was... good-looking, was wearing suspenders. Black suspenders with little gold clasps.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that my ovaries clenched in recognition.

_Clenched!_

And just as quickly as they reacted, so did my brain. Thankfully. But those thirty seconds I'd lost staring at the very elegant looking suspenders over a snow white shirt that had been perfectly ironed, had been lost forever.

By the time I managed to relocate my eyes, I caught Mr. Cullen giving me a funny look before clearing his throat.

His eyes went from me to the folders now sitting on my desk. "Choose an applicant from there and let me know who it is," he instructed in a voice that I might have considered hoarse if I would've been paying closer attention.

But I'd glanced down at the gold piece that adjust those damn suspenders when he'd started talking. Damn it.

"What's this for?" I asked him. Did my voice sound like a croak? No. No way.

Those cooked-broccoli green eyes stayed narrowed. "Your replacement, Isabella."

Oh. _Oh._

I thought about it for all of a second before something rung weird in my head. "I don't think I'm supposed to be looking at this," I told him slowly, as if he didn't know that the paperwork was confidential.

Mr. Cullen looked at me with a blank expression for all of a second before rolling his freaking eyes. Seriously. He rolled them. "I trust your judgement. Just choose one by the end of the day."

Well.

"Shouldn't you...meet them first?" I asked him, slowly again.

He stared at me.

"Someone might look good on paper but when you meet them in person they might have an annoying laugh, or body odor..."

The corners of Mr. Cullen's lips drooped down. "You're right." He blinked. "In that case, send an email down to Josie in HR and ask her to set up interviews with the applicants. Once she schedules them in for anytime this week, clear our appointments for those blocks of time so we can meet with them."

What was going on with all this _we_? I didn't understand why I would have to be in on the interviews. It wasn't my choice who was going to take over my position. Mr. Cullen was going to be the one putting up with a newcomer. _He_ had to get along with them—well as along as he was capable of.

I didn't say anything though, and I nodded, curling my lips in to keep from asking him why I hadn't gotten an interview to get the position. I hadn't even interviewed with human resources either until I signed my contract.

Which was weird now that I thought about it again...

"Also, book another room for our trip down to Tampa. The replacement will be going with us."

The replacement and the trip to Tampa. My last trip with Mr. Cullen, exactly a week before my final day. We were visiting a string of warehouses along the coast for a few days and I'd just booked two hotel rooms a few days before, since he'd opted on driving down instead of flying.

I may or may not have glanced at his suspenders one more time before he disappeared back into his office.

"You ready for the trial?" Jasper asked from across the table in the break room.

I made a face at him, shoveling into the chicken parmesan he'd run out and grabbed after I told him I was too busy to leave for lunch. My business law class was kicking my ass and he'd promised to help me with my homework. "I guess. I've just been kind of ignoring the fact it's coming up."

Tomorrow. Shit.

He laughed but followed up by saying something that I didn't exactly find amusing. "Edward said the same exact thing."

"Is he going?"

Jasper nodded. "Moral support, Bella."

"For me or...?"

"You think he'd be there for Kate?" he scoffed like a good best friend. A friend that knew a lot more about the complicated man I worked for and only partially understood.

"Maybe." I said it but I knew deep down that he wouldn't. I knew he was the one who had filed a restraining order against the psycho. A restraining order I didn't completely understand.

Jasper rolled his eyes and gave me a disbelieving look. "That'd be the day I get him to listen to rap."

"You mean he doesn't have Lil' Wayne on his playlist?" I snickered.

He tossed his head back and laughed, which made me crack up as well. Mr. Cullen in his New Balances, belted jeans, and prog-metal t-shirts, listening to any kind of rap? Ha!

"Who's Little Wayne?" a voice we both could've recognized in our sleep asked from the doorway.

It couldn't have happened intentionally, but almost as if we'd choreographed the movement, we looked over to see the infamous Cullen standing at the doorway, hands shoved into the front pockets of his ash brown suit. Jasper and I looked at each other, still synchronized, and started laughing even harder.

"What?" Mr. Cullen asked indignantly the moment we'd stopped laughing our asses off.

"You're so clueless, my friend," Jasper chuckled, tossing a balled-up napkin in his direction.

Mr. Cullen scowled before picking up the ball and putting it in the trash can. "I'm not clueless."

I'm not sure why I did or said it, but I put my hand up and held my index and thumb finger an inch apart. "Just a little, little bit but you can't tell unless someone knows you."

His response was a simple scowl that wasn't remotely mean or annoyed, it was a resigned look. "You two would know."

It wouldn't be until later on when I'd realize how exactly he had worded his statement.

Until I was sitting next to Mr. Cheney in the small room where Kate would be getting sentenced, with only Mr. Cullen sitting in a row of chairs behind me as his ex-fiance was sentenced for the incident back in Florida. Kate who still looked every bit the snow princesses as she had months before, blonde and tall and thin, and the complete stereotype for a rich sorority girl. Not once did she turn around to look over in my direction. She'd turned once for a brief moment while listening to whatever her lawyer was saying and looked at who I could only assume to be Mr. Cullen for a brief moment. Blank. Void.

It was creepy.

All of the courtroom dramas I'd seen over the course of my life had lied apparently. There wasn't a jury or some grand courtroom. The judge had seemed to barely pay attention as he told Kate, her lawyer, the old blonde man sitting behind her, and Mrs. Cope, that she was heading to the crazy bin—not really but that was the way I was envisioning it. Treatment for six months in a medical facility of the family's choosing, just like Mr. Cheney had said in our meeting.

I'd thought for sure to get more pleasure out of the situation. That I'd feel relieved or avenged in some way after the month I'd suffered with my muscle contusion. But I didn't. I only felt bad for the woman sitting like a drugged robot at the table with a stoic-looking father and a carefully blank stepmother that hadn't spared more than a glance over to our side of the room. Not once to the man who had employed her for years, put up with her when she didn't know a damn thing about anything.

And that kind of pissed me off suddenly.

I understood that she'd be on Kate's side but to completely ignore Mr. Cullen? What a bitch.

_That_ was the only thing I felt while Mr. Cheney shook my hand and led me out of the room, my boss flanking my other side.

I felt the heat of his breath before he asked, "Want to take a long lunch with me to celebrate, Isabella?"

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><p><strong>If my legal crap is off, ignore it and forgive me :)<strong>

**Also, please feel free to harass me for chapters on Twitter: twitter dot com/marianazapata_**

**I facebook but not often :-( facebook dot com/marianazapatawrites**

**And for those asking what I've been busy doing: REWRITING MY ORIGINAL! Please thank my friend, Dell, and my princess, Krystel, for finally getting me out of my funk. It's coming along, I swear, and I'm really, really excited about it—finally! I'm going to need another prereader if someone is interested, in a couple of weeks (if you are, email me! marianazapata at live dot com )**

**xoxo -Mariana**


	32. Chapter 32

**Muchachas, hello! This is short but due to popular demand on Twitter, you want something more than nothing ;) We're chugging along! Thank you all so, so much for your support, love, and enthusiasm for TD. Your kind words are what keep me from giving up on this bad boy. I know I'm terrible at writing back reviews but please know that I read and appreciate every single one. Anyway, you guys rock. Enjoy the update!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, I do own a brindle great dane that's turning three on Tuesday!**

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><p>He was smiling at me.<p>

Seated across the table at a fancy steakhouse like the one we'd went to with his parents what felt like years ago, Mr. Cullen was nursing a glass of some kind of red wine—yes! Red wine during a work day. I thought he was trying to trick me until he said something about "If you won't tell, neither will I,"—and smiling at me. It wasn't a typical smirk of a smile. It was reluctant. Like we were in a race together and I won but only by a fraction of a second.

Bittersweet. A bittersweet smile and I didn't know why it made me feel so sad.

"Relieved?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass.

It was the first time we've really spoken since I'd gotten into the car with him once we left the courthouse, with my car staying in the lot. On the ride over, he'd been glued to his phone, making arrangements for some issue that was going on with a major fruit distributor in Georgia. He hadn't even asked me where I wanted to go eat but free food? He could've taken me to Burger King and I wouldn't have complained.

Though I probably would've wondered if he was high, because Mr. Cullen eating fast food? I'd bet my first born the man didn't know the difference between a Big Mac and a Whopper.

And that was exactly what led to us sitting on seats opposite of each other, waiting for our salads.

"A little bit," I answered him honestly.

He blinked.

"But maybe not as much as I expected."

He then nodded, slowly, pensively.

"Thank you for coming," I added suddenly, remembering Mrs. Cope's aloof attitude. Bitch. The idea of falling under the same category as that old, incompetent bat made me boil beneath my skin. So a thank you? I could handle it.

Mr. Cullen lifted a single shoulder. "You're welcome," he replied before quirking his mouth to one side. "Your family didn't come?"

He was there. He knew.

"I didn't tell them." What I didn't add was that they didn't even know about it. "And my friend can't really take any time off from work right now."

His eyes were way too perceptive. _He_ was way too perceptive.

"My mother threatened to come," he said. That quirk of his mouth deepened into what almost kind of looked like an amused smirk. "I had to convince her that you wouldn't need her as backup. If she would've come, I'm sure she would have said something to get herself arrested."

And then he laughed out of the blue like if he was having a memory that amused the shit out of him.

"It wouldn't be the first time," he added.

Oh lord. Why wasn't I surprised. "She's gotten arrested?" Classy, sophisticated, with-so-much-money-she-probably-crapped-it-out Esme Cullen had gotten arrested?

"Yes." He laughed again. The sound was so pure it was strange. Clean. Untampered. "Only twice and there weren't any charges brought up against her. My grandfather still has friends that owe him favors in the police department."

I couldn't help but snort. The image of an almost sixty-year-old woman wearing a three-thousand dollar suit in a holding cell was freaking ridiculous. "For what?"

Mr. Cullen smiled so big it kind of shocked me. He never smiled like that. I would know. "Disturbing the peace."

Of-fucking-course.

I smiled at him before we both started laughing. "It's not that surprising, is it?" he asked.

I shook my head, because no. It absolutely wasn't.

"If she would've seen Mrs. Cope, she probably would've lost it."

He flashed me that mythical smile again, all perfect white teeth and masculine pink lips. "You're absolutely correct."

The fact that he'd caught on made me mad. Just a little. I mean, if he cared enough to realize that she was ignoring him, it must have bothered him to some extent. And why? Because her stepdaughter was a psychopath? There was no way in hell she wasn't fully aware of that fact. I'd met Kate once, before she tore apart his office and before she tried to kick the shit out of me—literally—and I knew that bitch was a few crayons short of a full box. Mrs. Cope had to know that.

Bros before hos and all that, but still.

"Why'd you put up with her for so long?" I asked him without even realizing that the words were out of my mouth.

Mr. Cullen sat up straight in his chair, watching me as he sipped at the blood red wine in his glass. "My father was friends with her husband. Back when I was still in school, I remember hearing that they'd lost most of their money in bad investments. They went bankrupt. And then he got sick... Father mentioned that she was looking for employment in the company to take advantage of the health insurance..."

Holy shit.

This man had tried to do something nice for once in his life. Okay, maybe not for once but it was rare.

"So you hired her?"

"Yes. I thought I could show her most of the things I needed but it didn't matter how many times I showed her, she didn't catch on."

That was the understatement of a fucking millenium. Mrs. Cope didn't know how to do a damn thing. She'd fed me to the wolves with her lack of experience.

Mr. Cullen grimaced. "If I didn't know that she needed the insurance, I would've let her go. I tried transferring her to a different department a few times but she'd cry and tell me that no one else would have the patience I did."

And I laughed.

It was rude and I didn't care.

But patience? PATIENCE? Mr. Cullen had patience? That was the excuse she fed him?

It was a freaking miracle that I didn't fall off the chair with how funny I thought that was. Goddamn that woman was good. By good I meant she was a good, manipulative old crone.

Even though I was laughing, Mr. Cullen obviously had a clue that I was laughing at what he said implied because he shot me a withered glare that had no real punch behind it. "I learned my lesson, Isabella."

"Oh, I know."

Because it all made a ton of sense now. Why he hadn't trusted me a single bit when I first started. Why he hadn't cut me any slack. And while it didn't excuse him from most of the shit he'd done and said, it cooled my memories. It smothered any residual anger I'd held onto since before our Atlanta trip.

I probably would've been almost the same way. Probably.

A small part of me wanted to ask him where Kate had fallen into the history of Mrs. Cope but I figured there wasn't a point in pushing.

Mr. Cullen gave me a tiny, lopsided smile that made me forgot about the blonde maniac. "How's school coming along?"

Uh. "It's coming." I frowned. "I hate most of my classes."

"Why?"

Easy. "They're boring."

He blinked. "Then why don't you study something else?" Like it was that easy. Like I hadn't been struggling for years before he took over half of my life.

How he knew what I was studying, I didn't know. I hadn't told him personally but there was always Jasper and Alice. "I don't know what else to study."

I don't know what I was ecpecting but it wasn't the soft smile on his face, or his shrug, or him leaning forward on the table, giving his manners a big fuck-you and planting his elbows on the table. "You're bright and you work hard. You can do anything you want."

Well.

I don't even think my parents had ever told me that.

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><p><strong>Harass me for chapters of le twitter: www dot twitter dot com slash marianazapata_<strong>

**I don't facebook often but when I do... www dot facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites**

**xoxo -M**

**P.S. As soon as I hit update, I checked my email and saw that TD was nominated for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand. Woo hoo! I never get close to winning but I'm honored to have been nominated. So thank you to those who did! And if you happen to vote for my beloved little Assward, THANK YOU too! www dot tehlemonadestand dot net**


	33. Chapter 33

**My lovely angels, hi! Here's another quick update. It's been less than two weeks, so don't complain haha. Thank you all so, so much for all of your love and support for TD. I'm so grateful and amazed by your kindness, and it really is the biggest motivator to finish this. Your reviews and recs are the best things ever. Sorry for not writing them back half the time but I promise I read them all! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! We're chugging forward, I swear :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but Assward is all mine.**

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><p>"What did you think?"<p>

I looked over at Mr. Cullen across the elevator and shrugged. "I didn't like her as much as I did the guy yesterday."

What I didn't tell him was that I also didn't like the way Miss Irina Romanov looked at him. It was a little too Fatal Attraction for me. The petite blonde had pretty much glued her eyes to Mr. Cullen's face throughout the interview, answering the questions he shot her way robotically. Blushing. Practically panting.

What a pathetic bitch.

He'd eat her alive.

"I didn't either," he replied with a huff. "Too young."

Well, there was nothing really I could say about that. She was probably the same age I was, but I didn't look at Mr. Cullen like he was the second coming of Jesus either.

"Mr. Fleming seemed the least incompetent," he finished.

And I laughed.

Leave it to Mr. Cullen to make "least incompetent" sound like a good thing.

Fortunately, my laugh triggered a small smile onto his tight face, his dark green eyes looking strangely strained on his face. "What do you think?"

After sitting through five interviews over the course of the last three days and listening to bloated egos, and reading over carefully fluffed and molded resumes, I had to agree with him. Alec Fleming had seemed like the best option available. Twenty-six, with a steely face, and a graduate student, he seemed quick on his toes and direct. None of the sugarcoated bullshit that the other potential candidates had spun to try and get into Mr. Cullen's good graces.

And after having a thirty second stare down with Mr. Cullen and not balking, the guy had a backbone.

I felt both relieved and a little sad that my replacement had probably been found in the blonde guy. Not that it was certain yet, but I had a good feeling it was. Mr. Cullen's statement had just cemented my guess.

"I think so too," I finally answered him, pressing my shoulders blades against the cool wall of the elevator as it ascended. "Would you like me to message HR or do you want to do it yourself?"

He gave me a funny look, that tiny smile still stitched on to the corner of his lips. "I have you for less than three more weeks. You do it. Two weeks for training doesn't seem long enough."

Lord Jesus.

Like an idiot, I blurted out the first thought that popped into my head. "I had two weeks with Mrs. Cope." And he'd been gone the majority of it.

"That was Mrs. Cope, Isabella," Mr. Cullen replied, facing straight ahead. "He's learning from you."

I shrugged off his statement while we both waited silently for the elevator doors to slide open on our floor. The moment we were out—him allowing me to go ahead of him—he tilted his chin down. "How were your exams?"

Mid-terms. Fuck.

"Fine." And by fine I meant that I hopefully passed. Maybe.

He let out a little noise that sounded like a snicker. "Just fine?"

"Eh."

Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, his lips were still quirked up on the corner.

I sighed. "I think I did fine." I blinked. "I hope."

The smile that cracked across his face unnerved me with its friendliness and understanding. "I'm sure you did fine. I used to always think I'd done badly on my tests."

"You?"

He nodded shyly.

I wondered for a moment what he considered to be a bad grade. Probably a B. Ha. I snorted. "And then you'd end up with a perfect grade, right?"

Mr. Cullen looked at me for a moment, that fragile little smile still plastered on his pink lips, and he shrugged. "Not necessarily."

The look I gave him must have told him how full of shit I thought he was because he pursed his lips together.

"All right, most of the time," he admitted with a sigh.

I laughed. The question boiled out of me without control. "What was the lowest grade you ever got?"

He seemed to ponder the question for a moment before pushing the door to our offices open and ushering me in. "Before or during college?"

"Any time."

"One of my instructors gave me an eighty-nine once. I was pretty upset."

I groaned, keeping my eyes ahead of me so hat he wouldn't see me smirking. An eighty-eight? "In what class?" It was probably going to be advanced Physics or something ridiculous.

"Calculus II in high school," he answered after a moment.

The choke that squeezed out of my throat was a mixture of amusement and fucking disbelief. Of course. Not regular Calculus, but Calculus II. Calculus II when he'd graduated early anyway. The highest math I'd gone into in high school was Pre-Calculus and the only reason I passed that class was because my teacher was friends with my brother Emmett.

"You don't believe me?" Mr. Cullen asked as we stopped in front of my desk.

"Oh, I believe you. I just forget that you're smarter than us normal people." There was no way in hell I was going to tell him about failing College Algebra twice.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the soft charcoal colored jacket he had on stretched over his arms and shoulders, making me realize how much taller he was than me. At a solid five-four, he was almost a whole foot taller than me. "You're not exactly normal either."

Where the hell had this man come from?

Just a few days before, he'd paid me one of the highest compliments—okay, _the_ highest—anyone had ever given me besides the one time a drunk guy called me a "hot bitch." Mr. Cullen wasn't the type to throw away words and praises. He'd told me I was bright and that I could do anything I wanted to. I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't thought about his words a lot over the course of the week, especially when I felt overwhelmed as hell with all my exams.

Because I mean, if he—the overzealous, a little bit genius, hardworking tyrant—thought I could do something, then I could. And I did.

At least I hoped so.

I swallowed hard and smiled at him, focusing in on the thin black tie that lay flat against his lavender colored shirt. "Well, I'm no Cullen but I figure stuff out."

"I know you do, Isabella." His voice was low and gentle before he cleared his throat. He waved me toward his office. "Come, Mother sent you something."

Come, like I was a dog. I almost laughed but I kept it to myself and followed after him. Mr. Cullen went around his desk, fishing through the middle drawer for an envelope he fished out and handed to me. It was heavy stationary, the paper fancier than the one I sent my high school graduation invitations in.

"It's an invitation to the gala she's holding next weekend. She meant to drop by and give it to you herself but my father took her on a quick trip to St. Thomas," he explained while I opened up the sealed envelope and looked over the invitation.

The words Black Tie jumped out. Ugh.

"I believe Jasper is going," he added quickly. "I'm sure if you're interested in going she can squeeze you into his table."

Still. Black tie? I'd barely made it through prom without gagging. Having to talk to a bunch of stuck-up people? God help me.

"I'll be there too."

It was impossible not to remember the conversation I had with him about the circles his family travelled in. The people and the things he had to do that he wasn't a fan of, and it made me feel guilty. If he hated shit like this half as much as I did and _still_ had to go...

Jesus. Shit.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

There was no way I couldn't _not_ go after all the nice and inconvenient things he'd done for me. I probably wouldn't sit at the same table as him. I probably wouldn't even get a chance to talk to him, and even then, what the hell would we talk about? Work? School?

What the fuck would I talk to the other people there about too?

Goddamn it.

I had to bite back the groan that gurgled in my throat. At least if I was there he wouldn't be the only miserable one. It's the thought that counts, right? Moral support?

"Okay," I choked out. "I'll start looking for a dress."

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><p><strong>I'm aiming for another update next week. Cross your fingers!<strong>

**xo -Mariana**

**twitter dot com / marianazapata_**

**facebook dot com / marianazapatawrites**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hello, my ladies. It took a little longer than a week buuuuut it's a bit longer than normal *spirit fingers* so it kind of balances out, right? Just remember, we're burning slowly so don't kill me. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, PMs, messages, and love. I appreciate it so much. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, blah blah. Steal Assward and I'll haunt you.**

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><p>"You remind me of—"<p>

"A princess?"

Angela flicked the hair she'd just finished curling over my shoulder, scoffing. "Uhh, no. I was going to say Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman."

"Bitch." I looked at her in the reflection of the mirror in my little bathroom. "Are you telling me that I look like a prostitute?"

The little shit didn't even have to think about her answer. "A high-priced courtesan, my little Eliza Doolittle."

I couldn't help but laugh at her, taking in the slash of red on my lips she'd recommended to balance out the black color of my dress.

"You're a fancy slut tonight, Fella," Ang laughed as she put the finishing touches on the ends of my hair.

After an hour and a half of hair and make-up—and making each other laugh for the first time in over a week—my best friend had helped me finish my physical transformation into a respectable citizen. For the night at least.

Gone were the jeans that I'd broken in five years ago. No sloppy ponytails that were constantly falling apart halfway through the day. And I had make-up on. It was a miracle upon a miracle that I didn't look like the hot mess I usually did on my days off.

I'd spent one afternoon looking for a dress online, ordered it with all the hope in the world that it'd fit, and thank-you-Mary-and-Joseph, it had. I don't even think I'd spent so much money on my prom dress but whatever. The nearly three hundred dollars would still be chump change compared to what everyone else spent for the damn gala.

Guh. I still wanted to vomit thinking about it.

"You got everything you need?" Ang asked, smoothing the lace that overlapped the top half of the strapless black material.

Spying the simple black clutch I'd fished out of my closet, I had to think about the five things I'd stuffed in there. My license, cell, cash, debit card, and lipstick. "I think so."

"You put some condoms in there?"

Dear Jesus, I almost choked. "What the fuck for, Ang?"

"Has it been that long that you don't remember what condoms are for?" She laughed.

I rolled my eyes and took a step away from her, wobbling on my black heels for a split second. "Shut up. I'm probably going to be sitting there with a bunch of old men that haven't gotten boners in a decade, bored out of my mind."

"You never know," she argued with a smile.

Oh, but I did know. Jasper had already warned me the day before during lunch that these types of events were really painful for those who didn't give a crap about the upper echelon of society.

Whomp.

Forty minutes later, after I'd left my car with the valet of the swanky hotel, I realized just how right I'd been when I told Angela about the types of men I'd see. With the exception of that jackass Laurent from MSC I spotted right off the bat and the other two men he'd been speaking to around the bar, every other male was old enough to be my father. Shoot me now.

The room was beautiful and elegant. The women, many of those who weren't much older than me—gold-digging whores—in their shimmery, fitted gowns and exceptionally polished skins only added to the radiance. The place was exactly what I'd envisioned. Crystal glasses, fancy hors d'ouevres, and too many plastic surgery enhancements.

Where the hell were Jasper and Alice?

"Goodness gracious, is that my young friend Bella?" a voice asked from behind me.

I turned around slowly, not knowing who the hell would refer to me as their young friend, only to encounter the only other female in the room besides Alice that I knew I liked. Mrs. Cullen.

"Hi," I told her feeling a little relieved to find an ally.

Wearing a dress that looked like it had three layers of skirts underneath and an asymmetrical shoulder, she looked like a knockout. Maybe a little young but.. still amazing for her age. Not at all like a jail-hopping woman who had bred mister I-eat-pizza-with-a-fork.

She grinned wide, thrusting her hands out to wave me forward. "You look stunning," she said as she pulled me into a hug. "I love your dress."

I didn't know about _stunning_, but I'd take a compliment where I could get it, so I squeezed her back into a hug. "Thank you. You look great too."

"I look like a belong in a Disney movie with this monstrosity." She pointed at the bottom of her dress when she pulled away. "But thank you for the compliment, Bella."

I smiled at her and shrugged. "I think you look good."

Mrs. Cullen waved me off, managing an indulgent smile at the same time. "Quit flattering me, girl. I've already had half these sweet-butts trying to brown their little noses by telling me how great my gown looks." She rolled her eyes. "I might not have to wipe for days by the end of tonight."

Holy fuck.

Did she just—? Did she—

Mrs. Cullen laughed loudly at herself.

Yes, yes she had just talked about wiping her ass. What the fuck?!

I snorted, and then laughed so hard right along with her that several people around us turned around to see what was so funny. They would never even guess, which made it all the more perfect.

Those piercing green eyes that she'd passed down to Mr. Cullen—my boss, obviously not her husband—met mine after a long minute, the lines that reached outward from the corners made them seem even more mischeivious. "Edward would get so mad at me if he heard," she sighed. "Thank God he's not here."

This woman was out of control and it only made me laugh longer and nod my head in agreement.

"He probably would."

It was her turn to roll her eyes dismissively, not giving a single fuck about anything. "He hates these things, you know." I did, but I didn't tell her that. "Either way, I'm glad you managed to come."

"Thank you for inviting me." I knew these dinners cost what I made in a week most of the time.

"Mrs. Cullen!" the unknown voice sang out from behind me.

Like a true professional, Esme Cullen, plastered a winning smile onto her face and waved the person forward. Even her arm movements were elegant. But the next words that came out of her mouth in barely a whisper were far from it. "Here comes the biggest brown-noser of them all." She smiled wide like she hadn't just said anything. "Whitlock."

Oh my God. This woman was going to kill me. I snorted again, turning around to see Jasper and Alice making their way toward us slowly. Dressed in a tuxedo that I'm sure he was itching to get out of and followed by Alice, who had the cutest little baby bump beneath the silk maxi dress she had on, they were both grinning.

"Were you talking badly about me?" Jas asked right before he pulled Mrs. Cullen into a hug while I did the same to Alice.

"I would never," she grinned, hugging him back.

Alice snorted against my ear. "I find that hard to believe."

We switched partners in the hugging party. Jasper lifting both of his eyebrows before pulling me in. "Ms. Swan you clean up nicely."

"I take a shower occasionally."

He shook his head as he pulled away to wrap an arm low across Alice's back. "Edward?"

Mrs. Cullen made a face. "I saw him speaking to the CEO of that social media website a few minutes ago." Someone called her name out again and she sighed. "I must go mingle with the social climbers, children, but I hope to see you again later." She paused. "Save me a dance, Whitlock."

"Always do," Jasper grinned at the retreating figure.

I raised my eyebrows at the couple. "Ready to get this shit over with?"

I'd wondered about ten times what the likelihood of me dying would be if I stabbed myself in the eye with the dessert spoon on the table.

After the fourth speech, I'd decided that I could take living out the rest of my life with only one eye over having to sit through another damn speech by men who made incredibly corny jokes about shit that went right over my head.

It also didn't help that I'd gotten stuck sitting between douchebag Laurent and Jasper. Obviously Jasper wasn't the problem, we'd kept shooting each other bug eyes every time someone made a crack about their summer home. The problem was the handsy asshole sitting next to me that kept giving me these disturbing side glances.

When he wasn't trying to "accidentally" touch my knee, thighs, or hands.

Someone was going to get stabbed, but whether it was me or Laurent, I wasn't sure.

The grimy little hand made its appearance right by my wine glass. Again.

"Bella is it?" Laurent's pretentious ass asked.

Not giving a single crap that I was being rude and a bitch, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "Yes."

Those grimy little fingers tapped the table. "You're friends with the Cullens?"

Was this jackass for real? I watched him shift his lower body in my direction. "Yes." Kind of.

"I've never seen you at one of these before," he had the nerve to say.

Oh dear lord. First the loosey-goosey hands and now he was trying to sweet talk me. I had the fight back the urge to throw up on him only because I wasn't sure whether he didn't recognize me as Mr. Cullen's assistant, or if he really was just that dumb.

My money was on him being _that_ dumb.

"I'm kind of antisocial," I answered him, keeping my gaze trained forward so that he wouldn't get a single impression that I was interested in having a conversation with him.

"Why would a pretty thing like you be antisocial?" he cooed.

Holy shit.

"Bella, you wanna bust a move before you nail that asshole in the balls?" Jasper whispered into my ear at the exact moment I was going to give Mr. Pepe le Pew the bitch brow.

I tilted my head over to see his smiling, noticing for the first time in the last few minutes that there wasn't anyone speaking anymore.

"What about Alice?" I asked him, knowing that if I was his wife and he asked someone else to dance with him, I'd probably get pissed. Then again, I wanted to get away so badly, I'd take Alice's wrath over the moron on my other side.

"She's gassy," he replied without missing a beat.

The music was slow, sweet Sinatra. Well, shit. It could be gangster rap. I was up and following him onto the dance floor, my hand on his elbow. Tall, great Jasper, with his blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail spun me into him, grinning way too wide.

"How much longer are you staying?"

He made a face. "Hour tops. I want a Rally's burger like you can't imagine after that sorry excuse of a five course dinner."

So true. Each portion had been the size of an ice cream scoop. Delicious but so, so small. My stomach was still grumbling. "I'd kill for Rally's burger and fries," I moaned in agreement.

"Come over to our place," he suggested right before turning me in a slow spin.

As soon as I was back in place, I looked over his shoulder and spotted Mr. Cullen—my boss—off the edge of the dance floor in conversation with two much older men. He was talking but those cooked broccoli colored eyes were on me. I couldn't help but smile a little, waving my fingers with the hand I had on Jasper's shoulder.

He didn't wave back but the corner of his mouth tilted up just a bit into that secret little smile I'd grown fond of.

"What are you grinning at?" my past and future boss asked.

"Your best friend," I answered. "He's over there talking to some old guys."

"That's all he usually does," he chuckled. "Boring."

I glanced at Mr. Cullen once more before Jasper pulled me into another turn that led me toward the middle of the dance floor. We stayed there for two more dances, giggling and smiling at each other for long minutes. It wasn't until the song ended that I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Can I cut in?"

It was Mr. Cullen. Well, the older Mr. Cullen. Looking way too attractive for a man that was old enough to be my father in his mid-sixties. Whew.

Jasper graciously bowed out, slapping the older man on the back. "Take her for a spin."

What was with these assholes making it seem like I was an object?

I rolled my eyes at my friend slash boss and settled into Mr. Cullen. He seemed to be about the same height as his soon, so I had to crane my head back. "Hi, Mr. Cullen."

"Isabella, it's a pleasure to see you here," he smiled.

"It's a pleasure to see you here, too. You look very nice."

The DILF winked. "You make an old man feel like a million bucks."

Gawd. These Cullens.

By some miracle, I got passed from one man to the other song after song. They were all kind if not quiet to me, introducing themselves as owners of companies I hadn't heard of or important people that I still hadn't heard of. At one point, I spotted Mr. Cullen again off to the side of the floor talking to his mother and frowning. But what was funny was that it looked like he was getting scolded for something. Ha.

So it was a surprise when I was about to ask to bug off from the next dance when my partner, some president of Something-Somethng Enterprises, took a step away with a small bow. "I leave you in good hands, young lady."

Well, shit. I think part of me was expecting it to be jackass Laurent coming to seal the deal on my misery, but it wasn't.

Tt was Mr. Cullen—my boss—standing behind me.

I think for a split second, a second so small, I forgot to breathe. I mean, I saw him in suits everyday. Every single day. So Mr. Cullen in a tuxedo should've been a drop of water in an overflowed bucket. Old news. Besides the one time he'd worn suspenders, I couldn't remember ever really feeling affected by his attire.

Or you know, his looks in general.

But Edward Cullen in a class, beautifully tailored, expensive-as-shit tuxedo with a freaking _bowtie _blipped on my map. Just a little.

He held out both hands toward me. "Would you like to...?" He simply raised his eyebrows to end the sentence.

Shiiiit.

I nodded once, taking that step toward him, and flashed him a smile that might have still been under the influence of his tuxedo. "Of course."

His hand clasped mine, the other going to rest on my hip while my free hand went up to his shoulder. With an insistence that surprised me, he pulled me in closer to him than anyone else had, including Jasper. The warm heat of his body through the layers of clothing was inescapable.

And so was the clean, spicy smell that was pulsing off of him.

He smiled, that little, shy smile before guiding me into a sway. "Have you had a good time?" he asked in a low voice, his mouth at level with my temple even in three-inch heels.

"Besides having to sit next to Laurent—," and listen to those awful speeches, "it hasn't been so bad." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I remembered what Jasper had told me about that asshole and psycho Kate. Ruh roh.

He stiffened slightly. "You had to sit next to him?"

"Unfortunately." I sighed, noticing how close my nose was to the neat little bowtie he was rocking. Ha. "And you?"

He made a small noise in his throat. "I've been ready to go home for at least an hour," he whispered. "Our secret, Isabella."

Like the ten other ones we had. I couldn't help but laugh right before snickering. "We're heading to Rally's soon, if you can get out of here without getting in trouble with your mom."

"I can leave whenever I want," he noted in an uppity voice.

_Pffft. _My chest rumbled with a suppressed laugh. That woman had everyone wrapped around their finger. Fat freaking chance. "You sure about that?"

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes in a challenge I wasn't accustomed to. With a shape of his lids that I'd never seen before since he was usually it was him bulldozing me to do his bidding. "I'm sure."

"Well then, work your magic, Mr. Cullen, and you can come stuff your face with us." I raised an eyebrow. "But you can't cut the burger in half."

I'm not sure but I replayed the words in my head. Did I sound like I was flirting? Jesus Christ, I hoped not.

Mr. Cullen scowled, the hand on my hip relaxed just a fraction as his thumb happened to graze my hip bone. "When are you leaving?" he asked, his voice sounding a little huskier than normal.

"Soon, I think."

He nodded right before raising our hands up to spin me in a slow circle, pulling me in respectably close again. We were too close for me to see what he was looking at but it was impossible not to feel the tension that crept over the hard muscles that covered his shoulders.

"Is everything okay?" I asked him in a low voice, looking to the side to see what was bothering him.

It took him a second too long to answer. "Everything is fine."

But it wasn't. I knew him too well to know when he was full of shit—well, he was usually full of shit but sometimes more than other times. Like right then. I'd come all the way to the damn gala and bought a damn dress to be moral support for a man that had once upon a time been a complete jackass with me and who had, over time, become less of a jackass and more like a weird friend. And friends took care of each other. They brought them back from the brink of their troubles if they could.

I guess it was my turns to take the reins from Jas for the moment.

I tipped my head back to look up at him, waiting for the moment that he looked down at me.

It took a second for him to look down. Both of my eyebrows went up. "Have you ever dipped your fries into a shake before?"

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><p><strong>facebook: facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites<strong>

**twitter: twitter dot come slash marianazapata_**


	35. Chapter 35

Hello, lovers. Here's a quick update. This bad boy was way harder to write than normal so forgive the short length. I'm just trying to continue weaseling my way into the Land of the Forbidden *wink wink* Anyway, thank you all for your support and love of these guys. I can't express how much it all means to me. Anddd we continue! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but everything else is mine. Including the phone I dropped into a pee-filled public toilet this afternoon. Yeah. It happened.

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><p>"What's a Redbox?"<p>

Please tell me he was kidding. Please, oh, please tell me he was kidding.

I made an incredulous noise deep in my throat at his question—or hopefully it was a joke. I really wasn't sure as sad as that was because didn't everyone know what a miracle Redbox was? The noise was like a mix of a choke and a cough that sputtered out in Mr. Cullen's general direction.

Fortunately, Jasper was rolling his eyes at what his friend had just said. "He's joking, Bella," he assured me.

Yeah, I wasn't entirely convinced that the individual who still thought Jersey Shore was just a place, knew all about renting a movie for around a dollar.

"You do know what it is then?" I asked him carefully as we stood outside the hotel lobby, waiting for our cars.

Well, that was the thing. We were waiting for my car and Jasper's. Mr. Cullen had apparently caught a ride in a limo and was just going to ride along with one of us. At least that's what I figured.

Those dark green eyes flicked over in my direction, that infamous tiny little half smile on his lips. He lifted up a single, tuxedo clad shoulder. "I have rented a from there a few times. I'm not _that_ out of it."

Uh, yeah, he usually was, but I'd be lying if I said that his little joke didn't make me snort. I looked over at Jas and shook my head. "You never know."

My old truck rolled up at that moment, the valet quickly shuffling around the hood to give me my keys.

"So what are we doing?" I asked the trio.

"We'll can stop by Rally's if you go rent a movie," the blonde instructed. "We'll meet up at my house."

I nodded and swung my eyes over to the odd duckling standing there by himself. Could I just leave him by himself to be the awkward third wheel? Apparently, no. "Do you, uh, want to ride with me?"

He didn't even hesitate to nod.

_All right. _I wiggled my fingers at Jasper and Alice. "See you in a minute then."

"Don't rent anything scary!" Alice suggested before I jumped into the driver-side door.

I gave her a thumbs up after buckling in and watching Mr. Cullen do the same. I'm sure we both looked strange in our formal wear, getting into a vehicle that was almost older than I was. But he didn't say anything about how worn down my car was. The guy had probably never been in anything so hoopty, but to be fair, he didn't looked fazed by the creaky passenger door at all.

"Will you look and see where the nearest Redbox is?" I asked my boss right after putting the car into drive.

"Okay," he agreed in a less than enthusiastic voice. Not that he was going to be a member of any pep-squad ever, but still. His sudden solidarity just felt strange. Hadn't we pretty much gotten past this weird tension?

I kept driving in the direction of Jasper's house, listening to Mr. Cullen give me directions on how to get to a nearby drugstore. We got out of the car and waited for a customer already tapping away at the screen.

"Any requests?"

He shrugged again, looking at the miniature movie posters that were mounted between the two Redbox machines. "I think Jasper wanted to watch that." He pointed at the image of _Flight._

"That's fine," I shrugged, taking in his stiff posture.

There was something about him that suddenly just seemed off.

It wasn't any of my business but I asked anyway. "Are you all right?"

He didn't even bother glancing over. "I'm fine."

Liar. "You're sure?"

I think he was about to answer but the lady at the machine finished and we spent the next thirty seconds, trying to find the DVD. The next minute after that was an awkward dance of both of us wanting to pay for the movie, that ended in Mr. Cullen swiping his card before I got a chance to block him. Silently, we got back into my truck and started the trip back over to the Whitlock's.

And... it was strange. And awkward with the tense silence.

All of a sudden, he sighed way too loudly, but I was facing forward and couldn't see his facial expressions in the dark cab. "The Walters were at the gala."

The Walters?

He must have realized that I had no idea what the hell he was talking about because he sighed again. "Kate's parents."

How the hell could I have forgotten about old Mrs. Cope. Legally Mrs. Cope-Walters because the old broad had gotten remarried so late in life she'd kept her old last name.

"What?"_ Seriously?_

He was so serious I think he scoffed. "Yes, Isabella."

What the hell was wrong with them? "Why? That's so... ballsy."

Mr. Cullen huffed. "They had no right. My mother wasn't even sure how they got an invitation."

"Wow." I mean, just _wow. _I'd probably be in a shitty ass mood too if I'd seen the supporters of a psychopath that had tried to crap on my life. "Did they say anything to you?" I asked before I even realized how territorial and protective I'd gotten in the blink of an eye.

"No. Just seeing them was enough."

"I bet." Something ticked at me. "Don't you have a, err—restraining order against..." I let that one trail off.

"Yes," he answered steadily. For a moment, he didn't say anything else. "I filed for it after the incident at the office."

The incident. Riiiight. When a good chunk of the finer things in his office had experienced a sudden and brutal death. Before shit had hit the fan at the hotel.

I sucked in a little breath. "I didn't know." But he had to be aware of that.

"I know that I never really explained to you what was going on back then," he said in a low voice. "She'd been so unstable."

Understatement? I think so.

The next thing to come out of his mouth was like a bomb. "Kate had told me she was pregnant a few days before she'd shown up on the trip."

_Say what?_

It wasn't my position to ask but I did anyway. "She was?"

I heard him snicker before he laughed almost bitterly. "No. At least I knew she wasn't pregnant with my child. We hadn't—," thankfully he cut himself off. "That's why I didn't try and pry her off of you, Bella. With the restraining order and the way she'd been acting before that, trying to get back into my life... I was just thrown off. She'd been a completely different person for the first half of our relationship—it was just hard to accept that I'd gotten to know the wrong side."

He paused for a moment, letting me absorb the atomic and hydrogen bombs he'd just dropped on me.

"I know hearing me say that I'm sorry doesn't make up for what happened, for what I didn't do, but I hope you know how much I regret it. I'd like to think I'd handle things a lot differently if they happened now."

The reminder of what had happened, of how pissed off I'd been back then...

_Shit_.

It would've been nice to have heard his explanation months ago. Then again, all the other small reminders of the things I'd learned from him over the course of the period afterward—where we'd come to a rocky truce of sorts—also flooded my brain. Atlanta, his kindness, his desire for a level-headed person in his life, his effort, my scholarship among other tiny fragments that constituted his pastel-colored actions.

Mr. Cullen wasn't exactly the same man he'd been back then, so even if he had told me about his crazy ass, pretending-to-be-pregnant ex-fiance, I would have just flushed his explanation down the toilet more than likely. I wouldn't have known him well enough to understand the sincerity he displayed now. And maybe, _just maybe_, this fragile friendship of ours wouldn't have had a basis. We'd probably be all business with each other. I guess.

I must have been thinking about it too long because he cleared his throat. "I hope that you'll forgive me at some point."

And that was the thing. He'd already earned my forgiveness, hadn't he?

"It's okay," I exhaled. "Not that I didn't want to kick you in the face back then but that makes a lot of sense now." A part of me expected that my common sense would kick in and tell me to tell him his excuses were meaningless, but they weren't. I really did just feel... over it. Completely over it.

"I remember worrying you were going to try and hurt me."

When I glanced at him after stopping at the red light, I caught him looking out the window with a smile on his face. "You kind of deserved it, Mr. Cullen," I said before even thinking about it.

He coughed, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, looking so out of place with his nervous smile and fine clothing. "I think it's acceptable for you to call me Edward when we aren't in the office from now on."

His suggestion kicked me in the ass. I'd never heard anyone besides his parents, Jasper, and Alice call him by his first name. I almost wanted to test it out but it just felt too... I didn't know how to explain it.

"Okay," and like an clumsy little beaver, I tried it out. "Edward."

I didn't have the balls to look at his face as I said it. It was like being a kid and learning that your principal had a first name instead of just a last one.

Forty minutes later, with a half-melted vanilla shake and a bag of soggy fries on the floor between _Edward_ and I, with _Flight _playing on the flat screen television, I kind of just blurted out random words in a whisper-hiss. I wasn't sure why I did it, and hours later I wouldn't let myself dwell on what I said. On the permission I gave him in return for him giving me his. "You're the only person that doesn't call me Bella."

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><p>Just a couple of things, I swear.<p>

Uno) To Destroy was nominated for Fic of the Week over at TLS again. Wheeeee! I consider it a win that we've been nominated so much. So... someone rig it, so we can win it and put the kind people who continue to nominate TD out of their misery. Kidding. (Not really.) Check out the other good recs on there: www dot tehlemonadestand dot net

Dos) For those of you who had signed up for my mailing list waaaaaaay back when (August to be exact), I've lost all your email addresses. I had to switch companies, and then I couldn't export the addresses, blah, blah, blah. So if you're interested in getting notifications on my _original stuff_, like teasers and release dates—no spam, no crap—SIGN UP AGAIN por favor. You can do that here: eepurl dot com slash w0O0b (If this doesn't work, you can go to my blog and do it there: www dot marianazapata dot com)

Okay, that's it :) xo -M

twitter: twitter dot com slash marianazapata_

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	36. Chapter 36

Millions of greetings to you!

Yeah, I know. I know. I know. It's been a while. I've missed you, but I've been a busy bee. Even now, it's hard for me to get back into TD mentality but...*spirit fingers* we have a short update. But an update is an update, righttttt? :-) I promise it won't take so long to get another one. Hopefully within a week or two. I'd like to wrap this baby up before I'm thirty (still three years away *gag*). Anyway, I'll let you get to the update. More information on other stuff later.

My eternal thank you to everyone that have stuck with me through this, and Facebooked me, sent me messages on Twitter, emailed me, etc. to let me know how much you enjoy To Destroyward. Seriously. I wouldn't be sticking to my guns to finish this if it wasn't for you. You guys are the best.

Disclaimer: I own lots of things but I don't own Twilight. That sound so pretentious but I don't mean it that way, haha.

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><p>I wonder if this moment, with Alec Fleming standing right by my desk, was similar to when people found out that they'd been switched at birth.<p>

He looked so...natural.

Like he belonged there, in the midst of the expensive cabinets and desk. The wood-panelled walls. The sleekly understated decor.

While I'd always felt like an imposter of sorts.

And what surprised me was the long sigh that I let out when I realized how easilyy his presence adapted to my area.

_Our_ area now.

I'd spent the better half of the day before recovering from the late night Rally's run, staying up until almost four in the morning, and the soreness that radiated from my toes as a result of the heels I'd worn at the gala. Along the day, sneaking in between moments, I ignored the fact that my thoughts kept going back to Alec's first day. To the trip to Florida. To having to start all over again...kind of.

This next week was the beginning of the end in a way.

And though I was genuinely excited about starting to work for crazy, laid-back Jasper with his love for hair metal...I was leaving my comfortable little world. Okay, it hadn't always been comfortable. Mostly, it'd been a pain in the ass and it was only a miracle that I hadn't gotten violently ill from the stress or come down with an ulcer.

But the point was, toward the end, this had become my space. My challenge to overcome. My mountain to climb.

And I'd triumphed in my own little way.

And now, I was leaving.

Who would've known I'd be looking at my overqualified replacement like a mother lion eyeing a strange lion that was too close to her cubs.

"Good morning, Isabella," he greeted me from around the desk, tipping his chin down.

"Hi, Alec," I plastered a smile on my face, swallowing down the weird feeling in my stomach.

Fleming flashed me a slow smile. His blonde hair was combed back neatly, giving him a clean look that only heightened the professionalism that seemed to seep from his pores.

As if getting to work twenty minutes early wasn't enough. Show-off.

God, what was wrong with me? He was perfect. P-e-r-f-e-c-t. It was only the memory of that airhead Irina girl that tamped down my sudden possessiveness.

"Go ahead and pull a chair around," I told him, circling around to stash my things in the usual drawer I put my stuff, noticing the iPad sitting on the desk, already opened up to the Notes application.

He moved to the side, pulling a chair from against the wall to place it right next to mine. "Do you tend to arrive at the same time each morning?"

I nodded to him, watching him take everything in. Looking, inspecting and analyzing. "Usually. I like to get here before Mr. Cullen does." My eyebrows went up playfully. "Ready to learn one of your most important tasks?"

"Yes."

Tilting my head in the direction of the doors, I smiled at him again. "Cullen Coffeemaking 101."

Alec didn't even bat an eyelash, he reached for his iPad and held out his opposite hand. "Lead the way."

It became apparent almost immediately that he was either an extremely quick learner or he had a photographic memory. He learned how to do everything on the first go around. Ranging from knowing the correct proportions of sugar to even knowing how to open up damn inDesign, the guy was on top of it.

So when Mr. Cullen showed up late that morning after a meeting with the men upstairs, talking on his BlackBerry, giving me signals with his dark green eyes to go into his office, I had a good feeling Alec's meeting with him would go well.

And it did. Kind of.

The tension and professionalism in the grand office was stuffy. "Mr. Fleming" and "Mr. Cullen" were tossed back and forth constantly. The man I'd shared my milkshake with two days before was cool and distant. And he was such a total, alpha ass.

Halfway through the meeting I was worried the two of them were going to whip themselves out of their pants and compare lengths.

It was fate.

They were a match made in heaven.

"You have big shoes to fill," Mr. Cullen noted once he'd gone over all the things that would be required of him. The travelling, his insistence on punctuality, and putting up with his mood swings—at least I'm pretty positive that was apparent.

I might have smiled a little to myself at his comment.

He slid a folder across the desk in Alec's direction. "I need five copies of this for my next meeting."

"Yes, Mr. Cullen," Fleming said before excusing himself.

I rubbed my hands on my skirt and started to shift my weight to get up. There were about fifteen other emails I'm sure I'd gotten over the last hour. I wanted to try and get as much done so that I'd be caught up as soon as possible.

"Bella."

Hearing it, my name, for the second time...

It wasn't exactly awkward but it was... different. Not entirely uncomfortable but more like when you bought a new pair of tennis shoes and you were breaking them in. They fit but they weren't your favorite pair of shoes yet.

"Hey," I answered him in a lower voice, testing the _Edward_ out in my head but not allowing it to slip.

Mr. Cullen...err..._Edward_... was sitting casually at his desk, his expression open and a little unsure. Was he feeling as strange as I was being on a first name basis? I mean, Isabella didn't really count. It didn't. He might as well been calling me Ms. Swan.

"Will you be ready to leave at seven?"

I hadn't even bothered packing yet for our trip to Tampa but it wasn't like it would take me long once I got home to get my stuff together. We'd opted on leaving that night to avoid traffic. The idea of waking up at the crack-ass of dawn hadn't sounded exactly appealing either so we'd compromised on working a full day, and then leaving.

"Yes." His name was right on the tip of my tongue.

He nodded curtly, bringing my attention to the light reddish brown color of his hair.

Holy crap.

He and Alec styled it the same way. I almost laughed but managed to keep it under control. The look he gave me said he'd caught onto the shift of my facial muscles. Would I point that out to him? Maybe later. If he asked, but I knew he wouldn't when there was a chance Alec would hear him.

"Good," he replied, sitting back in his pricey leather chair.

That familiar weird slash awkwardness that fell between us felt like a sudden veil. _That_ I was friendly with. _That_ felt normal.

But I didn't want it to and I suddenly didn't completely understand why. It was a security blanket I'd outgrown or something.

So when the next few words just kind of flew out of my mouth, it was unexpected. I'd reached for something that wasn't business-related. That didn't belong in the land of Mr. Cullen and Isabella. It was Edward and Bella territory. Friendly territory. "Would you mind stopping at Rally's on the way down there?"

The answering smile he gave me had me eyeing more than the pearly white teeth he flashed. I took in the crisp navy blue suit he was wearing. "No problem."

We were going to Rally's.

Oh, how times had changed.

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	37. Chapter 37

I'm baaack. Another short update but I'm doing what I can, I promise. Thank you everyone for being so supportive of To Destroy. I'm very happy to let everyone know that our beloved Destroyward finally got into the Top Six (not Five, thank you) over at The Lemonade Stand. Woo hoo! Anddd, if you noticed my beautiful banner with the equally beautiful (I'm making ugly noises when I think of Henry in The Man of Steel) banner made by the wonderful Mina, thank her as well. Blah, blah. I'll try to update more often. Thank you for sticking it out with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

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><p>I was bored out of my mind.<p>

So. Freaking. Bored.

After two days of travelling from one hotel to another, working from before eight in the morning until well into seven or eight at night...my brain and body were revolting. Stay the night in my hotel room, again?

No thank you.

The problem was that between myself and the two prized roosters in the rooms on either side of mine, we only had one car. One rental. One luxury sedan that I was stuck inside of, swarmed in awkwardness while I tried my best not to burst out laughing.

Just that morning, on the drive to our first signature supermarket visit, Mr. Cullen and Alec had gotten into a discussion—_not_ an argument as my boss clearly clarified when I called him out on it two hours later when my replacement went to restroom—about talk radio.

I said it. Talk radio.

There was no way they saw the beauty in their relationship, but I did. And even though I was still feeling just a little bit of...weird...about leaving, I knew that I'd swayed Mr. Cullen correctly toward Alec. They were perfect for each other, but they would never know it. I might have gotten a bit of a thrill at that realization.

_Yeah_. The headaches to come for my boss were my farewell gift to the man that had given me ulcers for months. I kind of hoped he thought of me when he got annoyed in the future.

When Mr. Cullen had turned to look at me after Alec said something or another about "conservative Neo-Nazis" and asked me what I thought, I made a face and said, "I think you two should listen to FM when you're together."

Neither one of them said anything after that.

For an entire minute.

And then they started discussing something else regarding another subject that made me want to start snoring obnoxiously.

So, getting into the car with them again? Yeah, no.

What else did that leave me to do when I was feeling anxious?

The first idea that popped in my mind was kind of terrifying. Or at least just intimidating.

An hour later when I couldn't think of anything else, I took a deep breath, talked myself out of calling first, made sure I wasn't wearing anything that Angela would consider whorish, and snuck out of my room as quietly as possible.

Because I could only imagine what it would look like if the man on the other side of my hotel room he saw me.

I knocked. Two quick raps that made my throat itch.

I was in the middle of scratching it when the door slowly opened and dark green eyes peered at me from the crack for a moment. Just a moment, before it swung open quickly and he whooshed out, "Is everything okay?"

Ahh, hell. A sudden memory of crazy ass Kate hit me but I didn't let it settle and ruin my mood.

"Yeah, sorry." Why was I still scratching my throat? I dropped my hand and flashed a nervous smile. "I was bored..."

I should've just stayed in my room, I thought.

"Oh." He blinked, made a face that had me taking a step back so I could retreat. Gesturing in, he shook his head. "Come in, come in. I don't know what I was thinking, Bella, sorry."

Bella.

It hadn't escaped me that it was the first time he'd called me something other than Isabella since the gala. It didn't feel weird, or uncomfortable. It was natural. It came out of his mouth like he'd been calling me Bella for years.

I didn't think twice about coming into his room, appreciating for the first time that he had a room identical to mine. It wasn't some master suite or penthouse, it was just a standard room. Nothing fancy or pretentious. It was just like every other time we'd travelled somewhere together. Did our COO do the same? Doubt it.

Wiping my hands on my pants, I turned to look at him as we stood with his back to the door, hands on his hips.

Wait.

He was still in his suit pants, but his belt was off.

And so was his dress shirt. In only an undershirt that was a pristine white, it didn't change the fact that it was thin. Nearly see-through.

Jesus.

When the hell did he get time to exercise?

He wasn't big like my brother, but his body was lean and strong like the ballet dancers I saw at the Nutcracker every year. Or like a martial artist.

Was that a vein in his bicep?

_What the fuck was I doing checking him out?_

Dear God. I needed to masturbate soon if I was starting to get desperate.

But I glanced at the neat outline of his pectorals and for some messed up reason, thought to myself, _well_, _maybe_ _not_ _desperate_ _exactly_. Stupid. I was getting stupid.

"Take a seat," Edward offered, waving me toward his neatly made bed. He flashed me his signature little smile as he took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "Did you have dinner already?" he asked.

We'd gotten back to the hotel almost two hours before but...

"I can eat again," I answered him, sliding my hip onto the side of the bed closest to the television.

He nodded and held out the room service menu to me. "I was planning on getting a roast beef ciabatta..." Edward trailed off.

I wasn't going to focus on the fact that he said the statement like he expected a certain answer from me. An answer he had good reason to wait for because he'd gotten to know me in his own Mr. Cullen-way.

So I said the words that cemented our weird friendship. "You know me too well."

That got me a grin that had him nodding. "Okay."

"Do you want me to call it in?" I asked him in second nature.

He looked at me with those cool eyes, normally so indifferent or aggravated. "I can do it," he said in a slightly lower voice, turning toward the phone on the nightstand next to him.

I took my time to look around his room while he spoke. His suitcase was neatly packed on the stand right by me at the foot of the bed. His suit jacket was hung in the tiny closet. And he was watching...

The Science Channel.

I pointed at the television and raised an eyebrow, "You like How It's Made, too?"

His nod was slow but enthusiastic as he talked into the phone.

And I could easily say that the smile I gave him was equally enthusiastic while I waited for him to hang up so I could talk to him. "I love this show."

"It's a new episode..."

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	38. Chapter 38

Hello, dolls! I know it's been a while :D But I'm here! Anyway, here's another short update. I promised I wouldn't give up on TD and I'm keeping to it. Thank you all so much for being so patient but mainly for being so motivating. You really have no idea how much your enthusiasm and love for TD means to me. Really. Anyway, we're still chugging along but I'm setting things up *evil laugh*. Yes, TD is slow but no, you aren't going to rush me. Yes, it's chapter thirty-seven and they still haven't kissed, but I'm an evil, stubborn bitch and I stick to my guns. My vision will not be deterred. ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But I do have a baby great dane that busted my lip open. Do you have any clue how much your lip can bleed? A lot, trust me.

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><p>"That wasn't my fault."<p>

Dear Jesus, this man was asking for it.

I mean, he was _asking_ for it. And even though I was exhausted beyond belief, my eyes were fighting a losing battle to stay open and my head hurt, I knew how dumb the general manager sitting across the table was being.

A total dumbass.

I caught Mr. Cullen's slow blink in response to the man's reaction and had to stifle a laugh.

When I snuck a glance over at Alec, who was sitting besides me, I swear on my life that he did the same thing. _Slow blink_. Oh baby, these two. My stomach cramped from having to stop myself from laughing out loud at how alike those two were.

"You're meaning to tell me that it's not your fault that the store has lost five thousand dollars in revenue because you couldn't schedule five minutes into your day to call corporate and have the security cameras fixed?" The question was so cool, so calm, that it kind of amazed me it still had the effect a whiplash would have.

The general manager didn't even swallow. He settled for a nod. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

I caught Alec scratching at his throat with a finger, eyeing me in return. I made my eyes big but switched my gaze forward again.

"Interesting," was the one and only thing that Mr. Cullen responded with.

And then they stared at each other in silence. A couple minutes ticked by, it might have been longer. All I knew was that it was long enough for another yawn to swim up my lungs, catching me totally off guard. I covered my mouth but it wasn't fast enough to hide how wide my mouth opened.

Those dark green eyes swung over in my direction. His mouth twitched. "Ms. Swan."

"Excuse me."

The words that came out of his mouth immediately afterward could have hurt my feelings or pissed me off an incredible amount if he'd said them months before. But what really got to me was that I recognized the faint glint of amusement in his eyes at our secret inner joke. "I would make an effort to get enough sleep in the future."

But there was that flicker of playfulness I'd caught last night when we watched television in his room, laughing at Conan's antics at almost midnight.

Conan. I would have bet my vulva that he would've been horrified at the notion of watching Conan when I told him that I was heading back to my room to catch my favorite redhead. All he'd done was look at me with those cool eyes and nudge the remote in my direction.

"I wouldn't mind watching it."

_Say what?_

There was one thing for him to watch The Science Channel and Big Bang but...Conan?

"Do you like his show?" I asked him.

Slowly, slowly, slowly a bashful smile took over his face, and if I'd been standing then, it would've made me take a step back. Luckily, I'd been sitting down when this man I felt I barely knew did it. Because I mean, _Mr. Cullen—Edward—_was capable of smiling like that?

The sensation that had come over my back was awkward.

"I've never seen it," he admitted with that alien-like smile on his face.

It'd be a lie if I said I didn't swallow my saliva. "Oh." I had to look everywhere but in his direction until my nerves got back to normal.

And then it hit me.

He'd never even seen Conan? What. The Fuck.

Okay, it wasn't _that_ surprising, really, but still.

I found myself nodding at him and taking the control. "Okay, let's do it. But if you don't like it, just tell me."

_If you don't like it._

Like that was the case. Ten minutes into it, he was laughing louder than I was.

An hour later, he was asking me if it came on at the same time every night.

That was definitely not what I was expecting. And his little teasing in the conference room wasn't what I was expecting either. At all.

I had to school my features into their most serious version and nod, crisply. "My apologies, sir."

Mr. Cullen tipped his chin down before switching his focus back to The Moron. "Where were we, Mr. Black? Were you on the verge of explaining to me what duties held you back from making a phone call?"

Crack of the whiplash!

The meeting lasted another tense thirty minutes of awkward questioning and carefully controlled tempers. The Moron made excuse after excuse, getting just as mad as Mr. Cullen was getting except he didn't hide it as well. Eventually, the two men left the room to go check out the tiny security room.

The door had barely closed when Alec spun his chair to face me, shaking his head. "What an imbecile."

Proper little Alec calling The Moron an imbecile? I couldn't help but laugh and nod in agreement. "_Yeah_. I was trying so hard not to start laughing during most of that."

He scrunched up his nose in disgust. "It's pathetic."

I wasn't going to disagree with him. "Well, I'm looking up his records right now. I already know Mr. Cullen's going to ask for them when he comes back in, just wait."

The eerie pause while I pulled up employee records on my tablet should have been my warning that Alec was going to ask a weird question. But I hadn't been paying attention.

"Isabella, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure." I didn't even bother looking up.

"It's not my place to ask but...are those rumors regarding you and Cullen true?"

I dropped the tablet on the table. "What rumors?"

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><p>I love hearing from you guys! Feel free to shoot me a message or a tweet whenever!<p>

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	39. Chapter 39

Hello, babes! Here's another quick update. The original plan had been for this to be longer but I promised a chapter this weekend as my birthday present to you (today is my 27th birthday, woo-hoo!) and I won't have any more time to write between now and Sunday so, here we go! Once again, a million thank yous to all of you. It's amazing to me how gung-ho you are about TD, and your reviews and love are the absolute best. THANK YOU!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, blah blah blah.

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><p>"Is everything okay?"<p>

_Is everything okay? _

No, I wasn't okay.

That question was the equivalent of having someone ask me if I like brussel sprouts. Hell no, I don't like brussel sprouts. I'd rather drink my own pee than ever have that disgusting vegetable again. And that wasn't an exaggeration. At all.

In this case, I might have been exaggerating a little. Just a little.

Because the reality was, my head had been hurting for the last six-ish hours. The only person I had to blame was stupid, super-human-hearing Alec.

_Did you threaten to sue the Cullen family?_

Who the hell asks someone a question like that?

Then it got even worse, when he said that he didn't believe for a second that Mr. Cullen and I hadbeen_ sleeping together_.

My head throbbed right at the base of where it met my neck. Jesus H. Christ. What in the universe had given anyone the impression that we even liked each other? Half the time we'd been in public together, he'd treated me like exactly what I was. His assistant. His below-me, you-work-for-me assistant.

It wasn't like he was eye-screwing me from across the table. Or like I'd ever even touched him in the visible eye, much less stick my hand under the table and rub one out. Or play fucking footsies in a conference room.

Headache.

Dear God, this headache was going to be my end.

"Bella, are you okay?"

Rubbing a hand over my forehead, I turned to look at the green-eyed man sitting in the chair he'd dragged across the hotel room so that we could share the tray with our late night dinner on it. Dressed in only his pearly white undershirt and the slacks from the suit he'd worn that day, he looked like the complete opposite of the man that I'd seen hours before, ripping one of Masen's general managers a new asshole for being a moron.

It striked me right then, with an elbow to his knee and a fry carefully speared through the fork in his hand, that without the layers of formal clothing on, he looked even younger than his age.

He looked like a pretty normal guy.

With a nice body.

"Bella?"

I forced a weak smile on my face and let out a deep breath through my nose. "Sorry, I'm fine."

The lines across his forehead said he didn't believe me.

"I promise, I'm okay. I just have a headache."

Fork set precariously on the edge of his plate, Mr. Cullen...Edward...sat up. "Did I do something?"

The feeling that pierced through my chest at his question was as surprising as it was punched with guilt. What kind of a messed up friendship did we have that he automatically assumed he'd done something wrong? What kind of person was I that he thought I'd lose my shit over _nothing_?

"No, of course not."

Those fine lines on his forehead still didn't believe me.

I rubbed my own forehead again. "I promise."

Still disbelief.

I sighed again and unconsciously reached out to pat his forearm. "Promise. Alec asked me something really stupid, and I guess it made me mad. I'm thinking about it too much and now I have a headache."

The lines of his side straightened and lengthened as he sat up perfectly. I wonder if his private school had been like those old, girls' finishing schools where they taught them what forks to eat with and how to walk with a book on their head? The thought almost made me laugh out loud if the expression on Edward's face wasn't so clouded.

"What did he ask?" His voice was low, much lower than he usually used even when he was being a total dick, asking for something.

Oh hell. "He asked if I was suing your family." The skin over his neck tightened and I'm not sure why I noticed that. "I guess because of the Kate crap? Maybe?" It tightened even more as his chin tipped up. "I would never do that, you know that, right? I never even thought about it."

"I know." Edward's nostrils flared just the slightest bit. "How did he even know about that?"

An excellent question that I hadn't gotten a reasonable answer for. I hadn't asked because I'd been too pissed off to care. I mean, Alec hadn't been with the company remotely long enough. He'd had lunch at MSM once? Maybe?

"I don't know. He said there were rumors."

"I see." He paused and his chin tipped up high enough for his eyes to glare at the ceiling easily. "Was that it?"

It took everything in me not to cough. "We're supposedly sleeping together, he said he heard. Pretty ridiculous, right?"

Those midnight emerald eyes slowly slid over in my direction, the angle of his face still tilted upward. "That sounds less preposterous than you suing me."

Umm...what?

"You're young, Bella, and you're beautiful. I'm not exactly a senior citizen."

Was that a joke he just made?

Edward shrugged, that peripheral gaze still on me. "I've heard things that made less sense."

Some unknown, previously undocumented feeling, sparkled in my gut. I guess he had a point. He was young. I was young. We worked together and therefore spent quite a bit of time in our own little office world. If this was a movie or a book, we would've been banging each other on his desk each chance we had in secret.

Yet here we were, sitting in his hotel room, eating chicken burgers, fries, and sharing a milkshake. The thing was though, was _this_ a secret? No, right?

I didn't think so. We weren't doing anything wrong, but if anyone in the company saw me walking out of his room, they would assume the worst. Because I know that if I saw this, I probably would as well.

And yet, I didn't really give a fuck.

Mr. Cullen was my boss. Yet, Edward was my friend. I didn't have a lot of those and I wouldn't denounce him to anyone if they asked. I was a private person and I know he was too so it wasn't like I would walk around telling the world that we liked watching television together.

"Does that upset you? The rumors?"

I shook my head at him. "Not… the dumb one. Just the one about me going after your family. That's sleazy. It wasn't like you made Kate attack me." The untold story was that even though he'd explained to me why he didn't help me by restraining Kate, it still scratched at me, just a little bit and that fact still hung in the air. But whatever. _Whatever._ "I'm not that kind of person, that's it. It bothers me that people talk behind our backs like they know us."

A smile that could almost be considered sad washed over his face. "It comes with the territory, Bella. People are always looking at something or someone else to focus their attention on."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I usually am."

Oh lord. I snickered and the sound only made both of us laugh.

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><p>twitter: marianazapata_<p>

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	40. Chapter 40

Hallo! Here's another update. I meant to have this out about two weeks ago but thanks (not) to wrist pain, chest pain, a travelling significant other, and a quick visit from said significant other...it didn't happen. I will, I will, I will try my best to start updating at the very least twice a month. I'd really like to get three chapters out so that I'm not writing this another two years, but you guys are amazing and I'm sure you're totally okay with that :)

I can't begin to express my gratitude to all of you (well 99%) for being so great to me and loving TD so much. I've been working on this bad boy on and off for two years and though my love for it has fluctuated like you can't imagine, my love for your love hasn't. I'm finishing this for you and I won't cheat anyone out of seeing this to the end. I'm still not rushing a single thing but if you're still here, you're okay with that. BUT WE'RE SO CLOSE. Okay, I'm zipping up. Enough weepy weepiness (you know I love making up words), enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. But everything except the names is mine.

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><p>If someone had told me during my second week working with Mr. Cullen that I'd be getting teary-eyed during the last hour of my employment under him, I would've laughed in their faces.<p>

Repeatedly.

Yet there I found myself, sixty minutes to go and looking around my desk, trying not to constantly sniffle. And blinking repeatedly. And looking everywhere but at Alec directly.

What was wrong with me? I'd gotten up that morning in my hotel room with an impending sense of doom in my stomach. It wasn't like I'd been counting down the days...technically.

I'd just assumed...or maybe refused to believe that this final day wouldn't come. Or maybe I'd just thought that my attachment hadn't grown to be as deep as it was. When the hell it had happened, I would never know exactly.

But I had a sneaky feeling I'd grown attached to my position around the same time I'd stopped hating Mr. Cullen's guts, and started planting my seed of friendship with Edward.

That was the major thing. There was Mr. Cullen...and then there was Edward.

The trip to different offices had drawn that line in the ground with sharpies, and then painted over it with acrylics. Mr. Cullen was the man that had ripped general managers apart for their lack of discipllinary skills, the same male that had this stone-like facial expression that would have made Hitler shiver in his boots. The individual that had made me wish murder was legal once upon a time.

Then there was Edward. The man with the smile I could only describe as shy that watched television shows with me, double-dipped in our shared milkshakes, and reminded me of a caterpillar blossoming into a butterfly.

Okay, that was a lame comparison but it was the only way I could think of it. He'd gone from Mr. Cullen to Edward and that was a transformation that I would have never been capable of envisioning six months ago.

"Do you mind if I ring you up I have any problems?"

Alec's voice tore me from the itch in my eyes. I blinked them away to take in his clean features, that baby smooth skin that had planted itself in my chair in front of my computer.

Ugh.

"Isabella?" he asked again.

I shook my head, forcing a tight smile on my face at the same time I caught sight of the teleconference phone's digital clock. _Holy shit, there was only two minutes left in the work day. _"Of course not. I'll email you my extension number once I know it," I answered him quickly.

His nod was short and curt. "Thank you. I doubt it'll come to that but in case…" his eyebrows shot up at the same time his eyes swept over in the direction of the opened door that led to Mr. Cullen's office. "I'd appreciate it."

Cue my snort. "Trust me, I get it. Feel free to any time."

Alec smiled genuinely before turning his attention toward the computer screen to start logging off under my name. Boo. Why was I so weepy? I'd been so excited to start working for Jasper again.

I mean...it was freaking _Jasper_. I loved Jasper.

But the fact was, I wasn't a fan of change.

And I guess I'd grown really fond of the green-eyed anomaly next door.

The sound of opening and closing desk drawers had Alec letting out a deep gush of a sigh which only made me laugh. I wanted to see what he'd be like a month from now. It'd either be a dream for them to work together or the big dog would eventually have to show who was ultimately the boss. I didn't have a doubt who'd win the war.

I gathered up my crap with a heavy heart. I'd crammed my snacks into my purse earlier, put all of the Tupperware I'd stashed in the break room over the months into a plastic bag, and put my few knick knacks into a small cardboard box. By the time I looked up, I found Mr. Cullen standing on the other side of my desk with his large hands outstretched.

"Let me help you with that, Isabella," he said, taking the box from my hands.

"Thanks." I handed it over to him even though it didn't weigh anything.

He flashed me that tiny half smile that was our little secret. "Do you have everything?"

I looked around the barren area to make sure I hadn't left anything, and then nodded my head. "I think so."

"Thank you for everything," Alec piped up, shiny leather laptop bag hung over his shoulder. We'd each taken our suitcases to our cars as soon as we'd gotten back from the trip. "Expect a phone call sooner than later."

I happened to glance over at my soon-to-be ex-boss only to see what might have been either an annoyed look or a troubled one cross over his perfectly cut facial features. Whatever it was, was only there for a second. Gone so quick I wasn't positive if I'd even seen anything there to begin with. Maybe I was imagining it. I glanced at my replacement and nodded. "Of course. See you."

With a final wave, Mr. Cullen's new assistant was gone.

"Are you ready?"

The weak pout that came over my mouth was unexpected and the frown that he gave me in return was equally as unexpected. I glanced around the office again and let out my own long sigh. "Yeah."

He waved me forward with a little puff of air. We walked silently toward the elevators, the mood thick. I had no idea why he was so quiet, but I knew that I was just feeling a little nostalgic. For all the hell we'd gone through together, he'd kept me on my toes and pushed me to work harder and more efficiently.

Not always in a positive way but what's done was done. I could tackle one hundred Jaspers from now on and still come out on top. Hell, I could probably tackle Satan and maybe not necessarily win, but...go down fighting at least. Those were skills...survivor skills you couldn't buy. They were honed.

We were in the elevator when I looked over at him to see his gaze down on the fancy flooring. I had to take a deep breath to steady that weird feeling in my chest. "Thank you for everything," I told him.

Those grass colored eyes flicked up to mine. That carefully controlled face was blank for a moment, his stare sliding up toward the ceiling. "I owe you so much more gratitude for your kindness and patience than I think I could ever honestly express, Bella. If I wanted to try, I wouldn't know where to start."

Oh _gawd_. I felt a sniffle coming on.

"Upstairs won't be the same without you."

Was that his way of saying he'd miss me?

It had to. I think.

Possibly. Maybe. More than likely. I sort-of hoped.

I took the weak branch he was extending out to me and tried to be gentle, be brave, as the elevator doors pinged open. "I'll miss you, too," I admitted to him with what felt like an embarrassed smile on my face.

His mouth gaped open and closed like a fish for a moment before he nodded, slowly. Mr. Cullen waved me out of the metal cage again, hoisting the box in his hands higher. "I wish things had worked out differently in the beginning," he said in a careful, soft voice.

"Me too." It was the truth. It wasn't a bitchy admission or one that hoped to draw guilt out of him but rather, an honesty that acknowledged how well we worked together now. A trophy of a memory. I felt like a lion handler that occasionally got the whip in reply.

But that was okay.

You live and you learn and all that crap. You cope and forget and move on.

In the last few minutes as an employee of the man walking next to me, the awkwardness reached its pinnacle. This dance of Mr. Cullen and Edward Cullen, the head-honcho and the friend, peaked. It was like neither one of us knew what to do, how to talk, or how to behave.

There wasn't a manual for this.

The moment I got into my car, he'd be the Chief Financial Officer still and I'd be the employee _way _down at the bottom of the barrel. And as much as I'd miss the routines and the schedule and the familiarity of working upstairs, I had to face the road less travelled. I had a future ahead of me thanks to my new position and the promise of me going to school.

I had my whole life ahead of me.

And in an understated way, I had him to thank. For not firing me, for forcing me to conquer, for getting me a scholarship, and for letting me go.

And that realization and acceptance dropped like a heavy stone deep in my stomach.

Thanking him didn't seem like enough as we walked through the parking garage. Inviting him to dinner, sending him a card, or buying him a fruit basket wouldn't fill the bucket. I didn't even bother looking at him as I spoke. "I'd really like to give you a hug right now but I think it'd be better if I did it when we aren't surrounded by people that might think we're sleeping together."

"I'll accept a rain check." He spoke so crisply and quickly it surprised me. Like it wasn't a big deal at all.

I glanced at him out of my peripheral vision and we shared another side smile.

"Deal."

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><p>Real quick: I'd like to thank whoever nominated me and TGGT for the Twific Fandom Awards. THANK YOU! There's a lot of really great stories up for awards that I've shat all over (Paper Cutouts, The Best I Ever Had, I'm so excited I can't think of any others at the moment but there's tons!). It's an honor. Seriously. Gracias times a bazillion.<p>

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	41. Chapter 41

Hey lovers, here's another quick update. It was either posting something tonight or sitting on it for a few more days, but for the sake of keeping the pacing the same, I went with this. Sorry it took longer than I expected but I was busting ass to finish my original (and it's finallyyyy done, yee-haw!) so I don't feel guilty popping this out. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

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><p>The lime green Post-It note on the corner of my monitor said it all.<p>

_Welcome to the Jungle. _

Leave it to Jasper, who had started his vacation, to leave a Guns and Roses-inspired note on my first day as his new bitch. Technically more like the floor bitch.

You need copies? Ask Bella.

The printer is stuck? Ask Bella.

The lights went out in your office? Ask Bella.

You need to pick up an order from the mail room? Ask Bella.

Sure I'd had more duties sprinkled in between running around, and yeah sure, it'd only been a few days in my new position, but...the lack of responsibilities was driving me crazy. I'd gone from being busy all the time as Mr. Cullen's lackey, to… Lauren's replacement. Eww, eww, eww.

Luckily, I'd taken over the cubicle opposite from the Devil's old one, across from my old dominion. The newest hire must have thought I was insane when I did the sign of the cross the first time I walked by Lauren's space. Every time I stared at the lonely chair and desk, I couldn't help but think that I should get my hands on holy water to douse the desecrated area.

I might even call in a priest to perform an exorcism at some point.

Our floor was so noisy it grated on my nerves. There was always noise going on unlike my old floor. There was so many people coming-and-going, it was hard to concentrate most of the time, so that was another thing to get reintroduced to.

And someone had eaten my lunch two days ago.

Again, something completely unlike my stint with Mr. Cullen. He'd never eat my food without asking. Ever. And these damn heifers didn't even leave the lunch bag.

But I told myself, _you're moving on up in the world, Bella. Get over it._ So I tried my best to do so. It wasn't exactly easy but the more I thought about the familiarity of my place upstairs, the more frustrated I got. It was probably a good thing that I hadn't seen or heard from Bella #2 or Mr. Cullen. The two had to up to their elbows in observation forms and reviews.

I'd be fine. I would.

I tried to stay as busy as I could, but it was the ping of an incoming email that snapped me out of my focus.

**From: Fleming, Alec**

**March 5, 2012 10:27 EST**

**Subject: S.O.S.**

**Your assistance is kindly requested ASAP. I can't seem to find a folder of reports on the G: drive.**

**Alec Fleming**

**Executive Assistant to Mr. Cullen, CFO of Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5667**

I glanced at the clock and noticed it was past the usual time I took my morning break.

**To: Fleming, Alec**

**Subject: Re: S.O.S.**

**Mr. Fleming, give me two minutes and I'll be up there.**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

It was...weird taking the elevator up to my old floor. How many months had I spent going up there? Definitely less than the year I'd spent before that with Jasper but...I don't know how to explain it. Was I excited to go back up there just a few days after I'd stopped?

Nah.

Maybe nostalgic. _Yeah_, that would work.

The familiar aroma of coffee from the break room welcomed me back, and so did the doors I'd pulled open a hundred times before. And it was strange, too, in a way to see Alec sitting behind the desk, looking like a true professional with his gelled hair and immaculate suit. One day, I just knew, one day he'd be managing his own floor. Leading someone. He had that aura to him, like his britches were too big for that desk.

When he finally heard me coming in, Alec cut a nasty side-look over at the door leading to Mr. Cullen's office, and announced, "Thank heavens you're here."

It took everything in me not to laugh. "What happened?"

"I can't find the last spring's south area numbers anywhere." He cut another hard glare over at the door before drawing his gaze over to me and mouthing, "He's insufferable."

I grinned and nodded, waving him off the chair. "Let me look."

He was right, the reports weren't on the right drive. And they weren't titled correctly either, which was no surprise since old Cope had been the report warden last year. At some point, I'd started picking up on her habits and could figure out where she put things. Not that it made any sense but whatever. Imagine if someone was organizing their groceries by color. It was like that.

"There you go." I told him as I got to my feet, patting his shoulder.

There was a frown on his face as he looked over the ridiculous file name: 2011 Lower Florida/End of Winter. "Why—?"

"I don't know. That was the lady before me, and trust me, I don't get it either."

Alec's frown turned into a horrified look. "Why is it in on the shared drive?"

I shrugged. "Like I said, I have no idea. But if you can't find something that you're looking for, I'd check there first from now on."

He nodded in maybe not necessarily in understanding but in resignation. "That doesn't make any sense to me, but thank you for helping."

"Any time. I have to get back, but it was nice seeing you."

He smiled. "I'm sure it will always be nice seeing you."

I smirked and waved. "See you, Alec."

I really had planned on making my way back to my floor immediately but right as I rounded the desk, I heard Mr. Cullen's voice. And I blamed that for steering me toward his door.

Sure enough, he was sitting with the conference phone pressed to his ear. I stopped at the doorway at the same time he stopped talking. He looked over and the barest hint of a smile crept over his lips. I didn't want to distract him because I knew how he was about his work, so I settled for smiling at him and waving. Just a quick hello.

I pointed down, watched him nod, and then backed out.

I said goodbye to Alec again and headed back downstairs. That wobbly, off feeling in my stomach persisted through the trip. I pushed it away and focused on what I needed to do back at my desk.

There was a stack of paperwork waiting next to my keyboard when I got back and from the girly handwriting on the piece of paper taped to the pile, I figured they were Carmen's doing. Lovely data processing.

I sat down and unlocked my computer to see my inbox icon bouncing around at the bottom of the screen.

What in the world…

**Cullen, Edward** showed up on the display. The subject: **That Blame is All Yours.**

_What?_

I skipped all the bullshit at the top of the message after opening the email and focused on the body.

**Isabella,**

**The newest addition to the company has turned out to be more of a nuisance than the problem we dealt with in the past. If your 'issue' was half as annoying as the one I am now stuck facing—all thanks to you—then I think you deserve back-pay for your troubles.**

**I don't know how I'll continue to survive in this environment. **

**Sincerely,**

**E.C.**

I must have stared at the screen for an ungodly amount of minutes because my eyes felt almost crusty when I finally blinked.

Was he...was that...a joke? The only addition and nuisance I could think of was Alec. The only 'problem' that made sense could have been Lauren. I doubted he'd want to bring up Kate in any way.

So…

I laughed. I laughed so loud I had to slap a hand over my mouth so that Jessica wouldn't have more of a reason to think I was insane.

Mr. Cullen was venting to me. _Me_.

I typed up a response as quickly as I could.

**E.C.,**

**At the sound of things, I think you might have to consider a transfer. I think your nuisance has made himself a home. Or, at least he's found the prize he wants and will gladly wait you out. Wouldn't you do the same?**

**-Isabella**

I had probably only gotten about three files input to the master spreadsheet when my email icon started hopping around my screen again. Sure enough, it was Mr. Cullen.

**Isabella,**

**I don't have much experience with children but I'm left wondering if I should ask for a transfer to the daycare floor in hopes of saving my sanity. Either that, or by the glare I received ten minutes ago, I risk not making it to thirty-two. **

**Sincerely,**

**E.C.**

Oh, this was too much fun. And the dumb smile on my face was further proof of that.

**E.C.,**

**I have a sneaking suspicion that you might not survive until your next birthday at the daycare center either. The moment you tell the kids that they aren't allowed to make a mess, there might be anarchy.**

**I hope you have money set aside for retirement.**

**-Isabella**

Hours passed before I got another message that wasn't from a member of my department. It was almost five o'clock when **Cullen, Edward** showed up on my monitor again.

**Isabella,**

**Retirement is the equivalent of death. I'll have to come up with another plan.**

**Sincerely, **

**E.C.**

**P.S. These are the first set of messages I've sent that aren't work-related. Does the guilt of using company resources for personal use go away eventually?**

And, it was certain that Jessica must have really thought I was insane when I couldn't stop laughing at my desk after that.

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><p>I want to send a quick thank you to the very wonderful Amy, she wrote a fantastic review for To Destroy over at Rob Attack: robattack dot wordpress dot com2013/11/08/possessiveward-the-sequel/ (Hello to my new readers from there). It gave me all kinds of good vibes, so thank her for motivating me.

Okay, I'm off to spend my Saturday night with a box of tissues, megadoses of vitamin c and a file some of my old readers haven't forgotten about. *evil smile* Smell ya later, bitches (anyone? anyone?). xo -m

twitter: twitter dot come slash marianazapata_

facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites


	42. Chapter 42

**Hello princesses. A little baby chapter. I rewrote this thing about three times until it felt right, so here we are. Happy late Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans, by the way. And a special hello to all my new readers. And the specialest (go with me here) hello to my regulars :P I took a really long nap and can't fall asleep, so I'm off to try to do that now. **

**Thank you all for your amazing love and support, I'm sorry I don't write back reviews often enough but please know that they're greatly appreciated. I read them all! Promise! I read them for motivation. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. The next chapter is already halfway done (it was a previous version that I'd gotten down today but didn't make the cut). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Date: March 12, 2012 9:31 EST**

**Subject: Never Again**

**Isabella,**

**Today was the first and last time I will ever open an attachment from you inside of a conference room. **

**I believe the Board might be reconsidering my position after I snorted in front of them.**

**E.C.**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Date: March 12, 2012 9:45 EST**

**Subject: Never?**

**E.C.,**

**I'd apologize but I believe Sheldon Cooper would disapprove if I lied.**

**I hope your reputation is still intact. **

**-Isabella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Date: March 12, 2012 10:03 EST**

**Subject: Yes, Never**

**Isabella,**

**He would most definitely disapprove of you disrupting my work hours.**

**On the other hand, I think he would have supported your… what is it called? Meme?... Yes, **_**meme **_**if he'd known what excuses I had to listen to immediately afterward.**

**Don't worry, I made sure to reestablish my reputation before leaving.**

**E.C.**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Date: March 12, 2012 10:09 EST**

**Subject: Never?**

**E.C.,**

**Did you Google what a meme was?**

**The idea of you putting people back into place… it's hard to believe.**

**-Isabella **

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Date: March 12, 2012 10:27 EST**

**Subject: I Plead the Fifth**

**Isabella,**

**I will neither admit nor deny that I had a search engine open at some point today.**

**Are you being sarcastic?**

**E.C.**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Date: March 12, 2012 10:49 EST**

**Subject: **

**E.C.,**

**I will neither admit nor deny that I was being sarcastic.**

**-Isabella**

**P.S. I'm off to lunch in a minute.**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

I'd barely hit the send button when I sank back into my chair and cringed.

_Why did I write that?_

It wasn't like we hadn't been messaging each other and been interrupted by lunch breaks, or meetings, or…

_God, why the hell had I written that?_

We'd exchanged handfuls of emails everyday since my visit upstairs last week. They'd all been pretty light, nothing too serious. It was mainly us just joking around.

And if I really wanted to pay attention—which I didn't—I might even say a little teasing.

I made a face at myself looking over the **SENT** page that popped up on the email server and talked myself out of groaning in horror.

My embarrassment only got worse after I waited thirty minutes at my desk for a response that never came. I picked up my purse and went to look for Jasper, knowing he hadn't left his office yet.

Sure enough, the blonde Texan was sitting behind his desk with Warrant playing softly from the small speaker on his desk. He looked up when I stopped at the door frame and tipped my head over in the direction of the hall.

"I'm going out for lunch, you interested?"

Both yellow-white eyebrows shot up to nearly his hairline. "When have you known me to say no to food?"

I snickered and grinned. "Never, especially not since you decided to gain all of Alice's baby weight for her."

His expression melted into a scowl as he got up, knowing damn well I was just teasing him on the weight gain. "Don't think I'm paying for your food."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on." I waved him forward.

Jasper made another face as he locked his computer and followed me out of the office space and toward the elevators, pressing the button for us to go down. "How about Chinese?" he asked.

"Deal."

Neither one of us said anything as we rode the elevator down with two secretaries from the upper floors. It wasn't until we were out of the lobby and walking down the street that one of us broke the silence.

"How's Alice?" I asked him.

"Good. Ready to go on maternity leave."

I narrowed my eyes. "Doesn't she still have five more months until she gives birth?"

The slow nod he gave made me laugh. "She's booked up through the next three months but I have a feeling she's going to stop taking appointments after that. It might even be sooner than that though, I'm a little worried her hormones might upset some of the dogs she grooms but we'll see."

Having never had a dog, I didn't really understand but okay.

Jasper went on to tell me all about the latest OB-GYN appointment they'd gone to and how excited he got every time he heard the baby's heartbeat. The look on his face was pretty much one of the cutest things I'd ever seen. He was so excited about it, I didn't think anything could ever crap on his parade.

We'd barely gotten sat at a table in the restaurant when his phone pinged with a message notification. He glanced at the screen, made a little noise in his nostrils.

"Everything okay?" I asked him.

He glanced up and nodded, pecking away at the smartphone screen. "Yeah, Edward just sent me a _meme_." He enunciated the word in a way that made it known how odd the action seemed to him.

And it took everything in me not to burst out laughing.

"Oh yeah?"

Jasper nodded again. "I don't think he's ever even sent a picture message, Bella, and this week, he sent me an email at work about a concert he wants to go to, and now this." He flicked his blue eyes up at me again and gave me this _look_. "It's damn strange."

I don't know why I didn't admit to him that the emails were sort-of my fault, or why I didn't tell him that I was getting emails from E.C. too. I wasn't embarrassed at all that our friendship had grown but I knew how Jas would react, and this egg-shell thing we had was too… personal for me at this point. Too new, I guess. I didn't want to share it yet.

Maybe I just wasn't sure how I'd react to Jasper making it seem more real to me. I don't know.

Instead of denying anything or admitting anything, I just said "Huh."

And then I remembered all over again how I'd told him I was going to lunch. Ugh.

The waitress brought our food and we changed the subject of the conversation to office gossip.

An hour later, we were heading back up the elevators to our floor.

I worked on some busy work I'd been putting off in the supply and file rooms, and by the time I was done, it was almost five o'clock. I logged onto my computer so that I could close out of all the programs open properly when I noticed the bouncing email icon at the bottom of the screen.

I don't know what it said about me that the first thing I hoped to see was 'Cullen, Edward' in there.

Anticipation and a weird sense of dread filled the pit of my stomach, and when I saw the one line of body in the email, I didn't know how to react.

All it said was:

**I have a two hour block open tomorrow around noon. Are you free?**

**E.C.**

Well. It took me a couple of minutes as I sat there, trying to figure out what the odd knot in my chest was for before I pushed the inspection away.

And I typed in the only answer that felt right.

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><p><strong>Heh heh heh.<strong>

**Just a quick little question: Do I have any fellow Arrow fanfiction fans? (If you don't know what Arrow is... KAJFLKAJDLKJDF. Stephen Amell. LKJALKJAD. Google it, trust me. It's worth the time.) Anyway, if any of you are Olicity fangirls like me (don't give me this Lauriver bullshit), I would love you for eternity if you send me some recs. Yes? I'm willing to trade a new TD chapter within a week for good recs. Deal? :)**

**www dot facebook dot com / marianazapatawrites**

**www dot twitter dot com / marianazapata_**


	43. Chapter 43

**My lovely ladies, I'm a few days late on my 7 day trade. My apologiessss. I had so many awesome people steer me in the Arrow fic direction that we should all thank them :) Thank you all so much for all the support and your lovely words/reviews, they mean the world to me. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

><p>It was 10:58 when I heard the half wheeze half gasp from Jessica's desk.<p>

The little mouse was so timid she never made a single noise, even when you asked her a question she usually just nodded or shook her head. So when she did in fact make a peep, I glanced at the clock so I could pen down the occurrence into the 'Things that Entertain Me' folder I had set up in my brain. Besides the weird eye contact going on between Carmen and Alistair I'd noticed a few days ago, and whatever drama was going on with Irina and her boyfriend—I could hear her share of their phone arguments all the way over at my desk—there wasn't much to entertain me. I had to take what I could get.

And little Jessica thinking that I was weird was one of them.

Her noise had me turning around in my chair to see her peeping over the top of her cubicle, her face long, eyes curious.

I knew… somehow I knew deep in my gut what was the cause before I got the confirmation.

Leaning over to look around the side of the cheap wall of my space, I spotted the heather tan suit pants first, then the matching vest, ivory white shirt, dark brown tie, and matching jacket. It wasn't necessary for me to continue on the visual path because I could have recognized him from his expensive shoes alone. There was only one man in the company that was young and rich enough to pull off a pair of shoes that were worth one of my week's paychecks.

The first thought that popped into my head was, _what was he doing here?_

It was in that split second, barely hanging onto the edge of my seat and looking around the corner of my cubicle that he spotted my head. I can only imagine the expression on my face that had Mr. Cullen, who had been standing there looking around before, looking unsure in the span of a split second.

We hadn't agreed on where we would meet, I guess. The day before I'd written him back that I could take an hour lunch off, and he'd responded that that was perfect.

That was it.

I mean… I definitely hadn't been expecting him to show up to CP to look for me.

Immediately, I felt guilty. Just because I was shocked didn't mean I had to freak out. Not that I was freaking out. That he'd shown up on my floor. The CFO of the company. Wanting to eat lunch. With me.

We had worked together for a while, and besides all that, he was my friend. I'd told myself before that I wouldn't be ashamed of him or embarrassed. Jasper was my friend, so was Mr. Cullen. Edward. Whatever. He just happened to be higher on the totem pole but that didn't change that I knew what his favorite shows or foods were.

And I think I'd made him feel uncomfortable by looking so… perplexed.

I shoved the surprise down my throat and tipped my chin over, indicating that he should come over.

A smile broke across his mouth, and then he was on his way. Those dark green eyes moved around the room as he walked, taking in the closed door of Jasper's office and the other opened ones alongside the wall. Everything about him both seemed out of place and somehow perfectly matched with our runty floor. There was probably still streamer taped on the walls from Alistair's birthday celebration two days before, and here was this man that technically owned the company.

"Hi," I greeted him in sort of a whisper, catching Jessica's curious round eyes around the shape of his hip when he stopped right by me.

Mr. Cullen—Edward—blinked. "Hi," he said in an equally low voice. "I figured we could walk down." He paused and glanced around the office again. "If that's not a problem."

What kind of a shit was I for making him feel weird for coming to meet with me? God. "Of course not. Let me save my work and we can go." I smiled at him again.

A side smile crept across the corner of his mouth as he nodded.

As I was saving my work, I heard him behind me say, "Hello there."

It didn't take a genius to know he was talking to Jessica.

Jessica who didn't respond besides some kind of squeak.

It took everything in me not to make an amused noise. I finished saving the file I was working on, put my computer to sleep, and grabbed my purse. Mr. Cullen—Edward—was standing in the same place he'd been in before, except his body was angled toward the walking space between cubicles. He caught my eyes as I got up and gestured me forward.

I glanced to see the new temp looking over like she'd seen the light for the first time ever and tried my best not to either laugh or sigh at her. "Okay, I'm ready," I told Edward once my attention was back on him.

He shot me that little half smile again, and then we were off. Side by side through the open space of our floor and on our way toward the elevators. Neither one of us said a word.

The moment we were out of earshot from the offices, he sort of turned to me, his chin still aiming down and said, "I hope I didn't upset you by coming down instead of waiting in the lobby."

This was the same man that had made me feel like I'd been dropped on the head repeatedly as a baby. The one that I'd seen up close and personal, rip person after person apart in the most professional way possible. This was Edward Cullen, vicious man-eating shark, king of the ocean.

And I was… Dori from Finding Nemo. Okay, that was an exaggeration but my point came across the same.

I shouldn't have any power over him but in that moment, in that slice of time, I had it. There were a million ways that I could respond and hurt him, and I found, without looking deep inside myself, that I would never do that. I would never want to do that.

If I screwed this up…

Well, I wasn't going to.

So I answered him as calmly as I could while we waited for the elevator. "Are you kidding me? Maybe people will stop stealing my lunch from the fridge if you start coming around more often."

The delicate snort that came out of his nose was probably one of the most endearing things I'd ever hear in my life and I would never, ever repeat that. In my head or out loud.

"They eat your lunch?" he asked with an amused smile on his clean-shaven face.

"All the time." And I still couldn't figure out who was doing it. I was starting to try and consider talking my way into the security room where they kept track of all the footage taken on the premises during the work day.

His nose wrinkled. "That's incredibly rude."

"I know, I think I'm going to have to start spitting on my food or licking it, and leaving a note saying that I did. Maybe that will stop them." Too far?

He might have smiled but I couldn't tell because he'd ducked his head down.

Neither one of us said anything on the ride down and I wasn't sure if I'd let my inner psycho out too much, or what. But the words were already out of my mouth so I just went with it, hoping that I hadn't alienated Edward. The last thing I wanted was for things to be awkward between us.

Where was the easy camaraderie we'd shared through email? Or in his hotel room?

God, that sounded so deceiving.

The moment we stepped off the elevator and into the lobby of the building, we glanced at each other, and the strangest thing happened. Edward might have not even realized he did it, but he let out this low, long breath in what could have been relief or, _something_.

But it was then that he finally spoke. "I forgot how ruthless you can be."

I snorted as we walked side by side out into the morning air. "I learned from the best, don't you think?"

He winced. "I was a bit of a bastard." Edward tilted his face up , letting the sun splash across his features. "I really am sorry, Bella."

Guilt churned my stomach. "I was just teasing you. I promise I didn't mean it like that." Because I didn't. My goal hadn't been to remind him of what our work relationship had been like once upon a time. He wasn't an idiot, he didn't forget.

To give him credit, he didn't glance over to try and read my face. He just nodded, more to himself than me, I think.

I groaned to myself and before I realized what I was doing, my hand was out and tugging at the sleeve of Edward's jacket, the best reassuring smile I could muster on my face. It hit me that I was a little caught off guard by how close we were. In reality, we weren't that much closer than we'd been in his hotel room sharing food, but I guess there was something about being out in the open where everyone could see us that took it to a totally different level.

Tugging at his jacket sleeve one more time, I kept eye contact as I said, "It's in the past, okay?"

Edward stared back at me for a moment before nodding, just a hint of a smile on one side of his mouth. "Okay."

We shared another smile between us that felt like a small secret.

"Are you in the mood for anything specific?"

He thought about it for a second. "I'd like a burger."

I scratched at my upper lip, fighting a grin. "As long as you promise not to bust out the fork and knife."

The look he gave me was all Mr. Cullen instead of Edward and it only made me laugh out loud.

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><p><strong>Yeah... I'm cruel. I have the rest of this planned out in my head at least. *sneaky smile* xx-mariana<strong>

**facebook: facebook dot com / marianazapatawrites**

**twitter: twitter dot com / marianazapata_**


	44. Chapter 44

**Hai. I know, I know. It's been a while. Read and I'll explain afterward.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twiight. **

* * *

><p>"So…" I tried to break the ice. I didn't want things to be awkward between us when we weren't in the safety of… well, a hotel room.<p>

That sounded so wrong.

Edward lifted up both eyebrows the moment he finished scooting over into the booth at the diner. "Have you eaten here before?" he asked, glancing around the old restaurant.

He looked so… not _out_ of place necessarily, but something very close to that.

I couldn't pinpoint exactly why but I had a feeling it had something to do with the fact his suit probably cost more than most of the people dining made in a month. To give him credit, he hadn't batted an eyelash at the torn cushions or the suspicious looking stain on the table we'd picked. But at the same time, I guess Edward Cullen wasn't an easily ruffled man either. A new place to eat was nothing in comparison to the people and shit he dealt with every day.

It made me respect him a little more.

I couldn't help but smile. "Jasper and I have a few times. You?"

He shook his head, torn between looking at me and continuing to glance around. "Unfortunately not. When I get out, it's usually to that Chinese place you two always go to."

And steakhouses. And fancy restaurants.

But he didn't say that. He knew that I was well aware of most of his eating habits.

And me? I brought my own lunch most of the time. Which he was well aware of as well.

The difference settled in my brain for a second but I let it go. It didn't matter. We hadn't chosen the financial situations we'd been born into and he was a good man that wasn't wasting away the opportunities he'd been given. That was why we'd grown into our friendship.

I lifted up a shoulder at him. "Well, I'm glad you were able to get out today."

That little half smile of his crept up his lips but he didn't get a chance to say anything else because the waitress showed up, handing out menus, dropping napkin-wrapped utensils onto the table and taking drink orders.

I watched Edward undo the rubberband from the fork and knife that had been set in front of him as I pretended to look at the menu. He unrolled the napkin and set it on his lap, grabbing another napkin from the edge of the table to set his silverware on. I had to bite back a laugh when he looked over at me before picking up his menu.

I swear spending time with Edward was like going to the zoo and looking at the exotic animals through the thick glass. _How the rich and cultured lived… and slummed it._

Another laugh tried to fight its way up my throat but I managed to hold it back with a rough cough. I needed to quit treating him like an experiment when we were out in public. "So… how's it going with your new best friend?"

Dark green irises peeped at me from over the top of the greasy, laminated menu covering the lower half of Edward's face, and by the slight way they tilted down, I could tell he was scowling. "You mean the changeling you left in your place?"

I laughed. "Alec's not bad." I kept the _you guys are two peas in a pod_ comment to myself though.

His scowl deepened. "I don't want to say that I _hate_ him but…"

I couldn't fight back the grin that had swept over my mouth. "But if Mike Meyers was running after both of you, you'd slash his Achilles and leave him?"

Dear God, I sounded like a psychopath.

But I couldn't dwell on how perfectly thought out I'd set the scenario up because… Edward was looking at me blankly.

The menu lowered half an inch as he asked in a low voice, "Mike who?"

It was my turn to look at him blankly. "You don't know who Mike Meyers is?" I asked him slowly.

The carefully controlled expression on his face didn't waver. "Should I?"

I stared at him.

And then he started laughing more loosely than I'd ever heard before. This asshole. "You're joking, right?" I asked just to be sure.

"I know who Mike Meyers is," he said between laughs. "I know I live under a rock most of the time but everyone's seen Nightmare on Elm Street."

I slammed my mouth shut and felt my nostrils flare. "Edward…"

The menu in front of his face dropped to the table, exposing his wide grin. "I'm kidding, Bella."

"Are you? Because I really can't tell."

Edward pushed his menu across the table to tap it against mine. "Yes, I am."

I totally didn't believe him. Who was this man and where had Edward Cullen gone? Not that I was complaining but… seriously. Where was he?

"I'm serious. You're just making this too easy on me." He smiled.

I rolled my eyes but didn't hold back a smile. "Okay, I deserved that. I'm sorry for thinking so lowly of you, but I figure the brilliant don't have time for things like scary movies."

"I'm not brilliant," he said in a way that made it seem the term embarrassed him. "And it's been years since the last time I saw one, but I did catch a few as a boy."

_As a boy_. Who says that? It only made me smile more. "No midnight showings of Paranormal Activity for you?"

He shook his head. "I like to go to matinees. The last movie I watched at midnight was Star Trek with my father."

How cute was that?

Wait.

_What? _

Oh dear God. I swallowed the thought and then spit back out of my head immediately, hating how uncomfortable it made me feel. _Where the hell had that come from? _

Where. The. Hell. Did. That. Come. From?

I think I might have broken into a sweat in that split second.

"Are you all right?" Edward asked me, his brows furrowed.

I swallowed again and made myself nod, trying to remember what we'd been talking about. "So…" I cleared my throat. "Star Trek, huh?"

I couldn't concentrate hardly at all after that anomaly. If Edward noticed that I was distracted, he was conscious enough to not ask why. We talked about Star Trek and then he told me a story about watching reruns of the television show in the rec room at his boarding school. I managed to tell him that I was never able to get into it.

The waitress brought our food at some point and we both chowed down. This newness between us, his good mood, whatever it was, all felt like a new pair of shoes. They fit and they were nice and smelled good, but they hadn't molded to me just yet. It was the difference between skinny jeans and your favorite pair of old, holey ones.

"I thought Chris Pine was a great choice," I told him, smirking.

Edward's eyebrows went up. "I don't know—"

The familiar sound of his BlackBerry ringing cut him off and I watched as his shoulders hitched up in annoyance right before he started digging into his pocket. With a sigh, he pulled the black device up and glanced at the screen.

From the expression in his eyes, I knew he needed to answer the phone. "Go ahead," I told him, smiling just so he knew for sure that I was being serious.

He hesitated but I shook my head. "I'm serious. It's fine. Answer it if you need to."

Edward pursed his lips together and nodded, curtly, touching the screen with obvious irritation.

I just kept eating, trying my best not to eavesdrop on his conversation but I caught bits and pieces. "_What?... When did that happen?...Of course not…"_

It might have been my assistant's sixth sense that warned me our lunch was going to end sooner than expected but I took it in stride. What else should I expect? I'd always known Edward was a workaholic, and most importantly we were eating during work hours, he was Mr. Cullen until he left the offices.

Usually.

So when he slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at me with apologetic eyes, I pointed at the waitress coming back our way. "I asked her to get you a take-out box so you can finish eating later." Though I doubted he'd get a chance to but he'd only eaten about half his food.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't mean to rush off like this but," his mouth went into a firm, straight line.

I shrugged and waited until the waitress had lazily dropped the container on the edge of the table. "I understand. Don't worry about it."

A tick flexed in his jaw as he shifted his leftovers onto the take-out box with his knife and fork. "I hate to leave you like this."

And I believed him.

"It's really okay," I promised.

Edward didn't try to explain what was going on as he got his things together and I didn't bother asking. He looked so tense and frustrated, I didn't want to make it worse. Plus, what was I going to do? Work came first.

But when he pulled out his wallet after standing up, I waved him off. "Nope. I can afford to pay at the diner. Go on back."

"But Bella—"

"Nope. My treat. You've done enough for me."

"Bella—" he started up again, only to get cut off by his phone ringing again.

I smiled and waved him off. "It's fine. Go."

Edward looked at me with those dark green eyes, relenting only when the shrill tone of his cell got louder. Just as he started to put it up to his face, take-out box in his other hand, he mouthed, "I'm really sorry."

I just shrugged at him, watching him leave.

I stayed at the diner, playing around on my phone until I finished my food. I didn't let myself think that I was annoyed or bothered by the fact he'd left. So it wasn't a big deal when I walked back to work alone.

But it was totally worth it when I got back into the office and caught Jessica peeping over the divider of her cubicle.

I worked diligently for the next few hours, trying my best not to let lunch bother me and it didn't.

And just as I was leaving for the day, I got the notification of a new email.

From Edward.

**I'm very sorry for leaving you.**

**Are you free for a raincheck this weekend?**

The weekend?

I gulped.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry it's been so long but it's been a good last two months for me.<strong>

**My boyfriend came home after three months of being gone (hooray!) so I've been trying to enjoy that and life, period. **

**As some of you know, I released my novel a month ago-finally! I'm so excited about it and completely overwhelmed and grateful for the response it's gotten. Under Locke made it to the USA Today Best Seller List, New York Times Best Seller List, and Indie Reader Best Seller List. KLAJKLJFSLKFDS. Yeah. If you've read it, THANK YOU! Please email me so I can thank you personally and send you mental hugs. **

**Unfortunately, I did lose a lot of my momentum for TD along the way. I'm trying my best to keep going to finish it for you guys but some days are harder than others.**

**Okay, that's it. I truly love and appreciate how supportive (and patient) all of you have been. I'll try to be better about updating regularly *cross your fingers***

**xoxox**

**Mariana**

**www dot facebook dot com / marianazapatawrites**

**www dot marianazapata dot com**

**www dot twitter dot com / marianazapata_**


	45. Chapter 45

**Hey guys. Long time no talk. Thank you for being so good to me! Enjoy the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but everything else is mine.**

* * *

><p>"You goddamn slut."<p>

I rolled my eyes and set the phone on the bed, choosing the option to switch to speaker so that I could pull my shirt on over my head. It was six fifty-five and I didn't have long before I needed to be ready. Where the hell had my morning gone so quickly? "Shut up."

"It's the truth!" Ang cackled over the line. I could already imagine her making all sorts of ugly faces. The moment she'd asked if I was busy tonight and I'd said, "Actually, yeah," I should have known she'd throw some sort of shit-fit. A good one.

Because immediately after I'd said that, she was silent. And then she'd asked slowly, "You… are?" Then not so slowly, "_With who?_" Angela made it seem like she wasn't the one with a steady boyfriend now with the way she was acting. Ungrateful whore.

Then again, she'd lost it when I told her who I was meeting up with this afternoon.

Her exact response had been a wild squeal of a "_OH MY GOD! HENRY CAVILL?! YOU HAVE A DATE WITH HENRY CAVILL'S BROTHER?"_

The fact that it wasn't a date, and that I repeated that fact several times, didn't seem to faze her at all.

"I swear to God it's not a date, we're just hanging out," I'd explained.

Hanging out with Edward. Whoa. Who would have thought that day would come? To be honest with myself, I'd probably replied to his email a little faster than necessary. Surprisingly, the response I got back from him within thirty seconds went along the lines of: **I'll pick you up at three.**

Just like that.

Picking me up. Hanging out.

Holy shit, the feeling in my stomach was exactly like the one I used to have back in high school when Bryce Samuels had asked me to the movies. It almost made me feel like a loser. What did it say about me and my social deprivation that I had gotten all anxious-excited about doing something today?

With Edward.

Gah.

"Not a date," Ang huffed. "_Not a date_. You still have those condoms I gave you back when you went to that gala thing?"

"I'm hanging up now, "I groaned as I checked my shirt in the mirror. Choosing something when you weren't sure where you were going was a pain in the ass. It wasn't universal like a mullet. Business in the front and a party in the back. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"From his bed?" she cackled again.

Bitch. "Bye, Ang," I muttered, hearing her answer back with a low laugh just as a knock came from the door.

I grabbed my phone off the bed, made sure my jeans were zipped and dashed for the front door, sliding across the floor in my socks just a bit. Without even bothering to make sure it was him on the other side, I opened the door to find grayish khakis, a black belt, and a teal colored henley pulled over a white t-shirt. And Edward's face above it.

Holy crap.

It almost felt like I'd been sucker-punched by the normality… the… good-looking man in his early thirties standing in front of me. Smiling, and if I could tell by the strange curve of his one-sided smile… he was nervous. Nervous!

Something about seeing him like that immediately made me smile, big time.

"Hi." I stepped back, waving him in.

The corner of his mouth quirked up just a millimeter higher as he came in and I knew, deep in my bones, he was at least a little bit off, too. "Hi, Bella."

Those eyes, bright and dark, swept over me in the fraction of a second.

O-kay. "Let me just… put my shoes on real quick." I wasn't much of a shoe whore, so I left my non-work shoes lined up neatly along the wall by the door.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but closed it instead. I could tell he was counting how many I had and it made me just a little self-conscious. He probably had more black dress shoes alone than I had total but the smile on his face.. was so… I don't think there was a good word to describe the nerves underlying his features. It was probably the same look I had when I went to the diner with him.

_Witness the lower income in their natural habitat. _Ha.

I finished slipping on my boots and shrugged my shoulders at him. "Ready to go?"

He nodded.

"Okay." I lifted a shoulder up at him when he didn't make a move. "Mind telling me where we're going?"

Edward tipped his head in the direction of the door. "The Science Center is open late today." His eyes flashed with that unfamiliar uncertainty in them. "I haven't been in forever."

The Science Center? I had to curl my lips behind my teeth when I smiled and nodded. "Okay."

"You're fine with it?" he asked.

"Yeah, it sounds like fun." It sounded like something very _us_, but I wouldn't say that out loud. I just thought it the entire walk down to his ridiculously expensive Jaguar.

But it was the truth. We were in the car and the next thing I knew, Queen was playing over the speakers and we were going to the Science Center.

To say that the first thirty minutes of our… hanging out… was awkward would be an understatement.

I didn't think I'd ever feel more awkward than I had back when I was fifteen and had gone on my first date. We'd spent more time playing on our cell phones than we had actually talking… and then there'd been the awkward kiss he'd try to plant on me during the movie. Yeah. No.

But that half an hour with Edward had equaled that.

Without any semblance of a kiss involved.

Then again, what had we expected? If my friendship with him had an entry in the dictionary it would be under 'awkward'.

We'd just looked at each other and then looked forward on the drive.

And then there'd been the whole paying-for-our-entrance-fees. It wasn't a date, so I figured we'd go dutch, even if the man probably made five times what I did a year. And that was without including whatever money he made elsewhere, because if there was one thing I knew, Edward Cullen knew his financial business, and he was making more money from stocks and bonds and whatever other crap rich people invested in, than he was from his day job.

Thankfully, once we were in, it was like we were in our natural element. Nerdy science stuff, the bond that had initially pieced together the two mismatched pieces that comprised us.

It'd been fine. It'd been fun. A lot of fun.

Angela wasn't much of a museum person, much less a science person. She would have gone with me if I'd asked but would have been miserable the entire time, so I really never asked. And there wasn't anyone else I could either.

But with Edward, he stayed and read the exhibits right alongside me. If I found something that I thought was interesting, I'd tell him. If he would find something he liked, he'd say, "Bella," and I'd go over there and see.

It was nice.

It was also extra nice when he asked if I had to be home at a certain time because he wanted to know if I'd be interested in eating Mexican food. The answer to that had been a "no." Netflix and I hadn't set a time for our date, but I didn't say that. I also didn't say "Hell yeah" to Mexican food either.

But honestly I'd thought to myself, Mexican food? Really? I might have started looking him over like he'd grown two heads because _really_? It was horrible that I'd automatically assume he'd have one of those delicate digestive systems that cried brown tears whenever it consumed highly spiced food but… okay.

And that was where we found ourselves afterward. Me eating chicken quesadillas and drinking a frozen margarita and Edward neatly cutting into his enchiladas and _agua_ _de_ _horchata_. The man was a mystery that I had a feeling I'd never truly understand.

"So, how are your parents doing?"

"Fine," he answered after swallowing a forkful of black beans. "My mother's been threatening to invite you to lunch." Edward glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, little pink flags marking his cheeks. "You know you don't have to go with her if you don't want to, yes?"

"I really like your mom," I answered honestly because it was the truth. I did.

"She can be a handful."

Before I even caught the words creeping around in my mouth, they were out. "You're a handful."

Was that flirting? Did it sound like I was flirting? Oh dear gods.

Maybe it had come out that way but luckily Edward just sort of smirked right before giving alittle one-shouldered shrug. "That's more than likely the nicest way anyone has ever put it."

I experienced the biggest pang of sympathy I'd ever felt in my life in that moment because I knew he believed in the words he said. He knew how other people looked at him. How I had looked at him, and while he'd definitely deserved the title for Reigning Supreme Asshole of the World for a while… Edward probably had hundreds of people that thought and felt the same way about him. All the time.

What was that saying? Something about how lonely it is at the top?

He put on his big boy pants every day and went and headed into the world, aware enough of how people viewed him.

Shit, that pretty much sucked. I didn't doubt for a second he had anything less than thick skin, some of the thickest skin… but _still_.

I tried my best not to give him a pity-smile as I shrugged at him in return, trying my best to make it as casual as possible. "You're a pleasant handful, how about that? Even better?"

Edward didn't respond verbally, instead he just snuck me a bright grin I wasn't expecting.

And it made me smile, genuinely, and keep talking without even realizing it, curiousity coming up out of nowhere. "It doesn't bother you? Always being under someone's magnifying glass?"

"Not usually," he answered honestly, quickly.

I made a face at him. "I don't know how you can do it. I hate knowing that people talk about me behind my back. Not that there's many but just knowing there is, bothers me."

"My parents know what it's like, so even when I was very young they tried to raise me to focus on myself and what I was doing instead of worrying about what everyone else does. At the end of the today, I know that my reputation is what everyone else thinks of me, but my character is what I know of myself. I don't have a problem doing what I need to do to make sure everyone succeeds-to make sure _I _succeed.

"If everyone thinks I'm an asshole, it's fine. But I'm an asshole with a responsibility. If I fail at my job I could put the company at risk, thousands of people could lose their jobs and even more people would suffer. I wouldn't waste all my family's hard work on letting people slack off either." Edward lifted that singular shoulder up and let it drop down, dramatically. "I'm not afraid of a little responsibility, Bella."

And then it happened. It happened so fast I might have missed it.

But unfortunately, I didn't miss it. Later on, I could wonder where it had come from and why it had come, period.

The point was…. attraction. This lightning quick bolt of attraction went through me at his little speech, at his determination and his confidence. _I'm not afraid of a little responsibility, Bella_.

And all I could think of as I sat in that chair in that moment, across from him was: _fuck my life. _

It was one thing to be attracted to some random guy on the street with a nice face or a great body, and then there was being attracted to a man's personality. That had some substance to it. It wasn't superficial even if it was unprecedented.

The greatest problem was, Edward Cullen wasn't just a man. He was _Edward fucking Cullen. _ Good lord.

Not thinking about _that_ anymore. Jesus H. Christ.

My nails dug into my neck as I scratched at it, hoping to holy hell that my face hadn't just totally betrayed that split second of emotion, of feeling, that had come over me. Whew. "I applaud your inner strength, in that case. You're a much stronger man than I could ever be. I'd just like to be left alone to mind my own business and get my work done."

"One less person to aim for my job," he said right before sipping at his drink.

I shook my head and gave him another big smile. "You already have your hands full with Alec. Make sure to shove a chair under your doorknob at night when you two go on business trips."

The groan he let out had us both laughing. "Don't remind me."

* * *

><p><strong>Just a couple of quick thingsexplanations:**

**As you can tell, I've lost my steam for TD along the way. Part of it is the fact that I'm still figuring things out as I go along and the other is that it's really hard for me to switch back and forth between first person characters. But I promised you guys I'd finish this, and I will. At one point I'd thought about asking for a vote if you'd be fine if I just summarized the rest of the story or... I don't know, skipped ahead to wrap it up faster... but I'm not going down that route. I'll figure it out somehow. Just be patient with me like I've asked from the very beginning. You guys have had faith in me and I will try my best not to let you down. **

**Secondly, for the passive-aggressive reviews I've been getting from anonymous and the not-so-anonymous telling me to "hurry the fuck up" or making comments about how I've "forgotten about the little people," etc, etc. Don't insult me. Take a chill pill, take a walk around the block, and feel free to come back afterward. This is a happy place and I don't like drama. So let's be friends and share some fries and talk about hot guys. **

**I'm trying to enjoy my life away from the computer screen, write, and do things as they come naturally. I'm not a fast writer and I don't like to shit work out for the sake of shitting something out. I thank you guys every single time I post something for being so wonderful to me. I appreciate it more than you can imagine but just... hang in there with me. **

**Blah. Okay. Enough seriousness. Hope you enjoyed the slightly longer chapter. :-)**

**xoxo**

**Mariana**

**P.S. I just took a peep at my PM inbox... and oh my. There's stuff in there from more than two months ago. I'm sorry! I'll try to get back to everyone within the next day or two. I **rarely** check my private messages, so if you ever need me, please email me instead, or get on Facebook, twitter, whatever. I check those more often.**

www dot facebook dot com / marianazapatawrites

www dot twitter dot com / marianazapata_


	46. Chapter 46

Check hell for freezing, this is another chapter! Wahoo.

It's a really short one. And I mean, a really short one. But (and don't freak out!) I've had an uneasy feeling the past few days that I'm going to have to wrap this up sooner than later. So the plan at this point is: short updates as often as I can (which also means I'm going to have to carve out an hour here and there as much as possible). I know, I know, i'm contradicting myself. I ask for patience and now I'm all "be prepared for short updates!" But you guys know I don't mean daily. I can't do that anymore. We're talking... weekly. Or maybe more. I don't know. I just know that I won't be able to drag my feet with TD for much longer.

Don't worry, I won't post anything that doesn't feel right so you won't feel cheated and this work of my heart won't feel rushed. I won't post something for the sake of wrapping it up either, but I think everyone knows I'm a fan of short chapters with this. At this point, this feels right and seems to be the only way I can make this work. Soo- everyone onboard? Okay!

Enjoy! And thank you all for your wonderful, kind messages. It really means the world to me that you guys are so understanding about the posting situation but the last thing I want is for someone to tell me that I need to stop my FF in the middle of a story. That's not what I promised you guys and that's not what I'm going to do.

WHEW.

All right-enjoy the baby chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 15, 2012 8:58 EST**

**Subject: Hi**

**E.C.,**

**Just wanted to say thanks again for this Saturday. **

**I'll leave you with a joke to start off your day:**

**Two scientist walk into a bar. The first one says, "I'll have some H2O." **

**The second scientists says, "I'll have some H2O too."**

**The second scientist dies. **

**Horrible. I know.**

**-Isabella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 15, 2012 10:31 EST**

**Subject: Inappropriate**

**Isabella, **

**I'd learned my lesson about opening your email during meetings.**

**Today I learned my lesson about opening them during phone conferences. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Thank you for that. **

**I feel obligated to share a joke with you in return:**

**Helium walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says, "Sorry, we don't have noble gases here." He doesn't react.**

**Funny?**

**E.C.**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 15, 2012 10:48 EST**

**Subject: You Went There**

**Edward,**

**You really, really went there. I didn't think you had it in you to make me laugh like that. **

**Be honest… you've been sitting on that one for a while, haven't you?**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 15, 2012 16:22 EST**

**Subject: Well Deserved**

**Bella,**

**It needed to be done. My father sent me a text message during the phone conference when he heard me and asked, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SON?**

**To answer your question: I might have done a search on Google recently, and I'm pleased to know it was worth the effort. **

**Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 15, 2012 16:37 EST**

**Subject: You Deserve a Write-up**

**Edward,**

**Do you think he's going to tell your mom you're finally slacking on the job? :)**

**I have one more joke for you:**

**There's a band called 1023MB. They haven't played any gigs yet.**

**Hope you liked that one as much as I did.**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 15, 2012 16:48 EST**

**Subject: Write-up? More Like a Phone Call From my Mother.**

**Of course he is. I wouldn't expect any less.**

** (ethanolparty dot jpg_ )_**

**That one I might have been saving for a while. I showed it to Jasper a couple of weeks ago and he just looked at me. **

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: August 20, 2012 16:49 EST**

**Subject: Your Mom is Nice.**

…**.. I don't get it.**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: August 20, 2012 16:53 EST**

**Subject: She Is**

**Do you want me to explain it to you?**

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: August 20, 2012 16:56 EST**

**Subject: Re: She Is**

**Just messing with you. :)**

**Leaving before Jasper or Carmen drop another pile of paperwork on my desk.**

**Drive safely (and check your brakes for tampering if Alec leaves before you.)**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p>Oh, and I still haven't gotten to my PMs. Forgive meee. Soon. I swear.<p>

I also stole these jokes from buzzfeed, and if you'd like to see the image Edward sends Bella-you can find it in a search called "ethanol party." :)

xoxo

Mariana

www dot facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites

www dot twitter dot com slash marianazapata_


	47. Chapter 47

**Hi! I'm a few days late but I couldn't get this right. Also, if you caught the boo-boo on the last chapter with the dates... that was an accident. I was paste-and-copying the headers because I'm lazy and missed a couple. The dates should have all been March 15th. **

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter! Thanks everyone for being so awesome!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but the rest of this is allll mine.**

* * *

><p>Of course it happened the next day.<p>

I was in the middle of preparing an expenditure report for Jasper when the shadow came over my desk.

"Good morning, Bella."

I froze. For a split second, with a Kit-Kat halfway hanging out of my mouth like a cigarette and my fingers in mid-air over the keyboard, I froze in place, recognizing the person speaking. Now, so that it's known, I rarely ate at my desk. I had snacks, sure. But I usually managed to wait until lunch to eat.

That _one time_ I was in the middle of snacking… Mrs. Cullen _would _show up. A board member's wife. Partial majority owner of the company.

Thank you, fate, you spiteful bitch.

There was no use in trying to be all coy or pretend like I didn't have chocolate in my mouth. I reminded myself that Mrs. Cullen was all those other things and more. She was also my friend's mom. My friend. Edward. The title didn't seem to bear the weight that it had before.

And so if was with that thought that a smile came over my face as I spun my chair around to face my visitor. Kit-Kat still dangling from my mouth.

"Hi, Mrs. Cullen. How are you?" I asked her, pulling the chocolate out as gracefully as possible to settle it on the napkin I had laid out on my lap.

"I'm doing well, thank you for asking," she responded, eyeing the red packet on my desk. "Oh my, I haven't had one of those since Edward was a boy and wouldn't finish them."

I laughed, sharp and natural. This lady was as subtle as a rhino. I grabbed the package and held it out toward her. "Here, have two."

Maybe a part of me wasn't really expecting her to take two but she did, biting into the first with a dainty bite followed by a soft sigh. "That was better than I remember," she said… right before she stuck the remaining bar into her mouth.

I stuffed the rest of the one I'd been eating into my trap too, taking advantage of her doing the same. We smiled at each other once we were done, Mrs. Cullen licking her fingertips after glancing around a moment. I handed her a napkin from my drawer.

"Are you visiting Edward?" I asked.

If she caught onto the fact that I called him by his first name instead of his last, she didn't say a word and I was too distracted to notice that I'd done so. "I came by to see Whitlock, actually; I have a little present for Alice and the baby." She made a casual, serene face. "I haven't heard from Edward today but I'll stop by and see if he's in."

It was a trap. A total trap and I fell for it like an idiot. Later on I'd realize she set the bait on purpose but then, I didn't. "He just emailed-"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck. Shit.

My face went hot. "He's... in."

Mrs. Cullen smiled, slow and sneaky and like a pleased fox. "Great." Her smiled pulled wider. "You know, we're having a get together for Carlisle's birthday in two weeks. You have to come. "

Nerves pooled in my stomach. "I think I might-"

She gave me this smile that had 'mom' written all over it, patting my shoulder. "I won't take a no. Listen, I'll have Edward give you the details. It's just a small dinner we have, nothing worth a proper invitation." She took a step back on heels that would have had me tipping over. "Two Saturdays from now, Bella. Thank you for the candy!"

And she was gone. Just like that.

Five-foot-eight inches of perfectly coiffed hair and robin's egg blue suit, gone.

Three feet behind where she had stood sat Jessica, watching. Lord. I waved at her. "Hi."

She turned around like I thought she would.

Slowly, I spun back toward my computer and eyed the last Kit-Kat in the packaging. Shoving half of it into my mouth, I pulled up my email.

**From: Swan, Isabella**

**Dated: March 17, 2012 10:48 EST**

**Subject: Surprise Visitor**

**E.C.,**

**Your mom just scared the crap out of me. We shared a Kit-Kat, and she invited me over to her house (your house?) for your dad's birthday. **

…**..I hope you aren't mad but I called you by your first name in front of her and accidentally let her know we've been emailing. **

**-Isabella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 17, 2012 10:50 EST**

**Subject: Ambushed**

**Bella, **

**That wasn't a surprise visit. I'm sure she's been planning it since yesterday. I'm also not surprised you're invited over for his birthday, which reminds me I need to buy him something. Thank you for that. **

**You know I don't live with my parents, correct?**

**Also, why would I be mad that she knows we're friends? **

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 17, 2012 10:57 EST**

**Subject: A pleasant ambush**

**Edward,**

**What are you getting your dad? What should I get your dad? I'm sure he has everything, so...**

**I figured you probably didn't live with them but I wasn't positive. Maybe you three live in some estate outside of the city. If my parents did, I would. **

**I'm sorry if I made it seem like I thought I was your dirty little secret. I know we're friends but I wasn't sure if you'd want them to know or not. You're a private guy. :)**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 17, 2012 12:10 EST**

**Subject: Re: A pleasant ambush**

**Bella, **

**I was thinking about getting him a yacht for his birthday. He's always wanted one. Let me think about what you could get him, and I'll get back to you. **

**For the record, I haven't lived with my parents since I was eighteen. I had to wait until I was old enough to legally live on my own to move out. They still live in the house we had when I was a kid, and it is outside the city limits. **

**I'm glad to hear that you don't consider yourself my dirty secret. You're not. I think everyone-my parents and Jasper-are more than likely relieved to know that I have another friend. Her exact words were: "That Bella is too cute."**

**Speaking of cute, I have a joke for you. **

**A guy at the bar: Hey girl, are you made of Copper and Tellurium? Because you are CuTe.**

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 17, 2012 12:38 EST**

**Subject: Re: Re: A pleasant ambush**

**Edward,**

**A yacht. You're messing with me again, aren't you?**

**Excuse me, Doogie Howser. I forget you graduated high school when you were still in diapers. **

**I'm pleased to hear your mom thinks I'm cute.**

**As far as your joke…. I don't know what to say to you. I'll give you a better one:**

**Person One: Tell me a Potassium joke.**

**Person Two: K**

**That's how you do it. **

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 17, 2012 12:59 EST**

**Subject: Re: Re: Re: A pleasant ambush**

**Bella, **

**Yes, I was joking with you. He can buy his own yacht if he wants. I'm considering renting a boat to take him offshore fishing for the day, honestly. **

**What's a Doogie Howser? **

**Since you didn't like my other joke, I have one that I think you'd appreciate.**

**What do you do to a dead chemist? **

**Barium.**

**It's a good one if I do say so myself.**

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p>There's a reason for all the emails. I promise. I know you guys trust me, but I want to make sure everyone is aware of the fact that I'm not trying to write for the sake of writing to fill up space. I'm trying to move the story along at a natural pace :-)<p>

xo

Mariana

www dot facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites

www dot twitter dot com slash marianazapata_


	48. Chapter 48

Helloooo. It's been less than month at least... -_- My legit excuses are: I went on vacation and my boyfriend put a ring on it. Acceptable? Okay! Here's a short one. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but everything else is all mine.

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 25, 2012 11:15 EST**

**Subject: Birthday Present**

**Edward,**

**I'm really at my end with trying to figure out what to get your dad for his birthday. I'm pretty sure I've given myself an ulcer and lost about ten percent of my eyesight from how much I've been stressing out, looking at the computer… like something is just going to pop out and say "Buy me!"**

**If you value our friendship even just a little bit, save me. **

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

I finished typing up the message and pressed my fingertips to the spot right between my eyebrows. What I hadn't added into the message was the countless tension headaches I'd given myself while surfing the web. Because seriously, what the hell do you buy a multi-millionaire?

Buh.

It wasn't like I was buying anyone else I knew something. I could find a present on sale and be proud of myself for snagging something good for cheap. Like Mr. Cull—Edward—had said, he could buy himself a yacht. I'm sure even his ties cost more than my entire outfit at any given moment.

My forehead had started its slow descent toward the office desk when my computer pinged with an email notice.

**From: Cullen, Edward**

**Dated: March 25, 2012 11:17 EST**

**Subject: Stop Stressing**

**Bella,**

**Read above.**

**Mind if I text message you? I'm leaving for the day.**

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5665**

Text me?

My hands got clammy all of a sudden but before I could psych myself out, I typed back a quick message.

**From: Swan, Isabella**

**Dated: March 25, 2012 11:18 EST**

**Subject: You quit stressing**

**Of course you can text me. You don't have to ask.**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

Oh, shit. Of course you can text me? Come on, Bella. Sound more like a lonely prostitute, why don't you.

Suddenly another thought made its way into my head.

What was I going to wear? And why did I care so much? My parents were lucky to have me wearing something other than pajamas when I went over to see them. Angela would ask me why "I was dressed up so fancy" if I put on make-up.

I pressed my fingers to my temples and massaged, telling myself that I needed to focus on work and quit stressing about the Cullens and going over to their house in two days. Everything would be fine. They were nice. And a couple of hours afterward, I'd be wondering what the hell I was stressed out about to begin with.

Wringing my hands out, I focused in on the information I needed to input into the database and went to work.

A few minutes later, a shadow came over my desk. "Want to go to lunch?"

I tipped my head back to look at the blonde standing right behind me, pulling his hair back into a tighter ponytail. "Your treat?"

He snickered. "The pleasure of my company is your treat."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Fine. Let's go." I put my computer to sleep and grabbed my purse, following Jasper side by side to the elevator as we talked about Alice and her pregnancy a little more.

We didn't even have to discuss where we were going to eat, we just kept walking back toward the Chinese restaurant we'd gone to countless times before. We'd barely sat down when my phone chimed. I took a quick peek at it while Jas was ordering.

EDWARD CULLEN: I thought of something for you to get my father: he loves these strawberry pies from that place on International.

ME: You want me to buy him a pie?

"Tell her I said hi," Jasper chipped in.

I set my phone on my lap, screen up and felt my cheeks do a little wiggle. "It's Edward, actually."

Jasper's eyes went wide just barely, barely, barely. But it was the big, dumb smile on his face that made me want to roll my eyes. "Oh really." It was a questions stated as a fact. Total smartass.

There was nothing wrong with Edward and I being friends. If he wasn't going to hide it, then neither would I, especially not around Jasper. "Yeah. His mom invited me over on Saturday for Mr. Cullen's birthday and I have no clue what to get him."

The wince he gave me in return said he understood the predicament I was in. "Ooh, yeah, I see your problem. Can't help you out with that one, sugar. I always just give him some cigars."

"You're useless."

"You'd be surprised how many times I've heard that line before." His eyebrows went up to his forehead. "What is Edward telling you to get him?"

"A pie?"

Jasper gave me a sage nod. "The ones on International, huh?" I nodded. "That's a good idea. He'd like that."

My phone beeped.

EDWARD CULLEN: Yes. A pie. He'll love it. My mom doesn't let him have it often because she wants him to keep an eye on his sugar levels.

ME: So you want me to piss off your mom?

I looked up to see Jasper giving me a funny look from across the table. "What?"

He shook his head innocently. "Nothing."

I didn't believe him.

My phone beeped again and the blonde smartass in front of me tipped his head in my direction. "I don't mind."

"I do. It's rude," I told him, setting the phone back on my lap.

He shrugged, "Okay." And then he smiled this smile that I didn't trust when my phone chimed again.

I waited until he got up to use the bathroom to check my phone.

EDWARD CULLEN: She won't.

EDWARD CULLEN: The pie place is on the way to my parents. I'll pick you up and we can get it on the way over. Yes?

Yes?

* * *

><p>I'm trying, guys. I really am trying to get through this. Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been so patient and understanding on this journey. I appreciate it more than you can imagine!<p>

xoxo

Mariana

www dot facebook dot com / marianazapatawrites

www twitter dot com / marianazapata_


	49. Chapter 49

I know, I disappeared again. But I'm here with another chapter, so thanks for putting up with me . You guys are the best and I'm so thankful that you're all so understanding of writer's block with TD and life in general. I promise I'm still trudging along and I still have every intention of finishing this but it's hard. Anyway, enjoy the update and thanks for being wonderful readers! xoxox

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but everything else is mine.

* * *

><p>I had barely finished slipping my brand new wedge sandals on when the doorbell rang.<p>

_Fuuuuuck._

Some small part of me had hoped that this was a dream—that I actually really wasn't going to the Cullen's dinner. There was a time in the past when I used to dream of working for the company that they owned, well, mostly owned. And I was going to eat with them. At their house.

Vomit, vomit, vomit.

I brushed my hands down the tea-length skirt of my dress and took a deep breath. All right. I had this. I could do it.

"Hey," I said as soon as I swung the door open.

Edward smiled back at me, that one-sided grin that was more than enough to make up for the fact he wasn't using both cheeks. "Hi." In the blink of an eye, he'd glanced at me below the neck, and then he was back at looking me in the eye. "Are you ready?"

I rocked back on my heels and fought the urge to look at the scooped neck navy blue polka dot dress I'd been saving for a special occasion. I might have not looked at myself but I pulled on the right cap sleeve. "One second." I flashed him a nervous smile before retreating back into my apartment to grab my purse and the balloon I'd bought on impulse at the grocery store that morning.

Damn it.

I hesitated untying it. God, was it lame?

"Did you get that for him?"

"Yeah but…" I glanced at him, taking in the for the first time that he was wearing a black vest.

Mother of God. Vests alone like that were almost as good as suspenders. Uh. _Uh_.

His black vest layered over a powder blue button-up shirt. And jeans. Dark rinse jeans.

I coughed and found myself scratching at my cheek before tearing my eyes away from his clothes and scrunching up my face. "It's stupid isn't it?"

That time a full smile graced his mouth and he shook his head. "No. Bring it."

I looked at the balloon once more and then untied it. My purse in one hand, the multicolored Happy Birthday! balloon in the other, I followed behind Edward after locking my door. That damn vest had that little metal piece on the back of it to make it fit better.

Damn it.

"You look nice," I piped up in what was a voice that was a little louder than it needed to be.

He turned to look at me over his shoulder and grinned. "Thank you."

And then he turned back around.

Well. Asshole.

I thought I looked pretty nice. I'd put some effort into myself. Well, whatever. Jerk.

Just as we made it to the corner of the building that led down the stairs, Edward paused and shook his head. "I'm rushing. I'm sorry. There was a lot of traffic on the freeway and I keep trying to plan it out in my head how to get the pie and make it in time."

I stopped right next to him and shrugged. "I can give him the balloon. I guess."

Edward shook his head and waved me forward to go down the stairs first. "No. We'll get the pie, and then head over, it isn't a big deal."

"Okay." I went down a lot slower than I wanted but there was no way I wanted to bust my ass going down the stairs in wedges.

Halfway down the stairs, Edward said, "I like your dress. It's very Mad Men-ish."

My leg buckled a bit but I caught myself. "Thank you." The same words he'd used a minute before. I glanced down and eyed the belt I'd put on. It was pretty sixties-ish. Peeping over my shoulder, I raised both my eyes at him. "Hurry up, Don Draper."

He gave me a look as he followed me down. "Okay, Peggy."

I'd only seen the first season of the show but it was enough to make me laugh out loud.

We didn't talk much on the ride to the get the pie, Edward hummed along to the radio and I settled for looking back and forth between the concrete jungle outside the window and Edward when his humming would get a little louder. We stopped and I got the infamous strawberry pie that I was giving a man who could afford to buy himself a yacht. The balloon in the backseat seemed to taunt me.

Soon enough we were pulling up to a gate. I shit you not, a _gate_. You couldn't even see the house from the drive. Holy shit, this was legit. Edward pressed what looked like a garage door opener that was on his visor—one of two—and the gate slowly pulled back.

I couldn't help the snort that came out of my nose. "Tell me right now, do your parents have a butler?"

"No," he answered in such a weird voice that I couldn't tell whether he was full of shit or if he was genuinely amused.

"How many maids do they have?" I asked with a smile. This was fun.

Edward closed his eyes and made a noise in his nose. "Bella, have you been watching Downtown Abbey?"

That had me throwing my head back and laughing. "No!"

"Are you sure?" he asked as he drove the car down a drive that wasn't as long as I was expecting. A huge red brick house—several times larger than the three bedroom I'd grown up in—stood nice and prim just up ahead.

"I'm positive… and since when do you watch PBS?"

"I just invested in Netflix and it came up under shows recommended to me. Do you have it?"

"Netflix? Look at you, Mr. Twenty-First Century."

His response was his silence, only looking at me out of the corner of his eye with what could have been a smirk. A second later, we pulled alongside a three car garage that had me wondering if there was another garage hidden somewhere on the property. I got out of the Jaguar and watched as Edward took the balloon out of the backseat, alongside with a card that he tucked under his arm.

By the time we got to a beautiful soli mahogany door, he passed me the balloon, rang the doorbell and let himself inside. And, it was just a big house. There was a staircase that looked like every other staircase in history, the wood floors were well-kept, and the décor was nice. But mainly, it was just a home that I could imagine a little Edward running down the stairs—if he even did that, I could picture him ringing a bell to get servants to come to him.

"Edward!" Esme, Mrs. Cullen, called from somewhere.

"We're here!" Edward called out, steering me to the left where there was a a comfortable looking living room.

Right at a connecting doorway, Esme popped in with a tight smile on her face.

I instantly went on alert.

"Come in," she waved forward. "Carlisle!" she yelled, and I mean she _yelled_. "Carlisle! Edward and Bella are here!" Well, didn't that just ruin my dream that they had bells or at least intercoms.

From somewhere else, a masculine voice responded, "Coming!"

I held the pie to my chest a little closer as if that would block Esme from seeing what I'd brought her husband. She went and greeted her son, hugging and kissing his cheek before eyeing the what I was holding with a snort. She shook her head but didn't say anything, giving me my own hug.

"I need to tell you—" she started her attention on my former boss, her voice low, "the Crypt Keeper is here."

The groan that came out of Edward's mouth made me worry. I'd seen him rip apart anyone and everyone's asshole without a blink, and yet whoever the Crypt Keeper was, was distressing him.

And then I thought: did Esme really call someone the Crypt Keeper?

"Who invited her?" Edward whispered.

Mrs. Cullen rolled her eyes, her jaw working a tight circle. "She showed up and your father told me to behave."

Instantly, Edward turned his attention to me, exasperation written all over him. "Bella, I'm so sorry—"

The sound of two people arguing down the hall suddenly got louder, the one sentence that really resonated into the living room we were in was in the form of "What do I have to do to get a drink around here? And where's the help at anyway, Carlisle? I don't know about eating that wife of yours food. Shouldn't you have gotten the cook to make something instead?"

A hand on my elbow had me looking back at Edward. I made my eyes all wide at him. "Should I be scared?"

"Of an ninety-one-year-old woman that won't die?" Esme whispered and I had to pinch the tip of my nose to keep from busting out laughing. What was wrong with her?

Edward shook his head at his mom. "It's my grandmother…" he trailed off but cleverly, or sneakily enough, he didn't answer whether I had something to be worried about or not.

* * *

><p>www dot facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites<p>

www dot twitter dot com slash marianazapata_


	50. Chapter 50

Ten months later-I'm here! Let's keep this short and afterward I'll explain where I've been and what the plan for this bad boy is. If I were you, I'd read the chapter before this again since it's been forever but if you don't want to do that... a quick recap: Bella and Edward are at Carlisle's birthday celebration at the Cullen's house when Edward's grandmother appears. Esme is not a fan.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight but everything else is mine.

* * *

><p>His grandmother?<p>

Before I could ask anything else, Esme groaned just as the ticking of heels on the floor reached a peak and a man with a woman who wasn't much smaller than him, appeared in the hallway. Dressed in an immaculate cream colored skirt suit, she honest to god looked like the offspring of The Crypt Keeper and Queen Elizabeth.

She even had a wool hat with feathers in it.

"Oh. I was hoping you'd left," the old woman muttered from her spot next to her son, her hand wrapped around Carlisle's inner elbow.

I felt Esme bristle. "Here I was hoping you'd fallen and couldn't get—"

Holy shit! I didn't know whether to be shocked or beyond impressed that Esme had balls of steel. My mouth might have even opened in surprise.

"Bella!" Carlisle cut off his wife, red patches blossoming on his cheeks. "You came."

Immediately, those old eyes that didn't hold a hint of glaucoma in them, swiveled over to where I was standing like it was the first time she'd noticed her daughter-in-law wasn't alone.

"Hi. Happy Birthday," I said a little more weakly than I intended, unsure whether to go give him a birthday hug… or not.

"Happy Birthday," Edward repeated, still not moving beside me.

Whether he didn't move because he didn't want to give his dad or hug of if he was trying to be moral support with the woman glaring over at our group, I wasn't sure.

"Hello, Grandmother," he said, still not moving. "It's a pleasure to see you."

Grandmother? Who called their grandma Grandmother? She didn't exactly look like a Nana either but...

"Edward," the woman greeted him in a cool voice.

Carlisle took a step forward, tugging his mother along in the process, and I swear Esme might have made a growling noise in her throat. When they were about five feet away, it looked like he pried her hand off his arm before he continued coming forward.

I held out the boxed pie and gave the damn balloon another quick look, regretting that I'd brought it with me. "Happy Birthday," I repeated like a complete idiot.

The smile that came over his face… he might have been old enough to be my dad but damn. Damn, damn, damn.

His gaze went to the balloon as he stopped right in front of me before quickly looking at the small white box. "You didn't have to," he said, even as he took the pie out of my hands. He looked back at the floating object with a goofy smile on his face. "I don't think anyone has ever given me a balloon before, Bella. I'm touched. Thank you."

Yeah, my face went red. "You're welcome. I heard this was your favorite…"

Mr. Cullen's eyes flicked up to mine, slightly widened. His voice was low and almost a whisper. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes," I whispered back as if Esme didn't already know what was inside.

He eyed me for a second before balancing his gifts in one hand and wrapping his free arm around me in a gentle hug. "Thank you very much, Bella. That was incredibly thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome," I said, hugging him back with both arms.

When he pulled back he gave Edward a similar hug. "Mother," he called out, stepping back at the same time he held onto the pie with both hands. "I'd like you to meet Bella Swan. Bella, this is my mother."

Damn it. I wasn't sure whether to shake her hand or what since Edward hadn't even walked up to her.

Well, she hadn't done anything to me yet, and I hadn't been raised to be rude unless someone was rude to me first. I put a polite smile on my face and walked toward the older woman, taking in her lined features, her way-too-calculating green eyes and the stiff tension in her thin shoulders.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," I said, putting my hand out in her direction.

She was pale, very, very pale and I suddenly thought of what Esme said about how she couldn't die. Would it be rude for me to make a joke about her being the mother of all vampires later? She'd probably appreciate it.

Mrs. Cullen glanced at my hand and then my face for a moment before finally putting her hand out and taking mine. It was cool, boney and had a grip that was a lot stronger than I expected. "Who are you exactly?" she asked while still shaking my hand.

"I'm Bella. I'm friends with Edward," I explained, caught just a little off-guard by the tone of her voice.

The old woman gave me a bland look.

"She works at MSM," Carlisle explained.

"I see." Yeah, she still didn't look particularly interested. "Alongside Edward?"

"I used to be his executive assistant. I work in a different department now," I answered with a smile on my face watching as her expression went from nearly blank to something stone cold.

Those beady eyes darted between myself and my old boss. The thin, thin, thin lines of white-blonde hair she could have called eyebrows if you really squinted, curved down on the outside corners. "His assistant. How original."

Esme was the one who reacted to the old badger's insult. "I suppose if anyone was going to know what constitutes originality, it would be you. You've been around long enough."

Carlisle's eyes bulged and I heard Edward make a noise. Me, I just stood there in shock. God damn, I loved his mom. I wanted to be Esme when I grew up.

Before the two opponents could make a retort, the oldest male Cullen clapped his hands together abruptly. "I'm starving! Who's ready to eat?"

* * *

><p>Hours later, we made it all the way to his car and managed to get inside before we both lost it.<p>

Edward slumped over the steering wheel while I tucked my head to my knees and let the laughter consume my body. I was shaking. My entire body was racking with sounds that were a perfect balance of sobs and laughter. On the opposite side of the car, I could hear the loud, crisp sound of my friend losing his shit the same way.

"What the hell just happened in there?" I cackled in three broken breaths.

"That was every family get-together since I was a baby reenacted," he explained between guffaws.

I tipped my head to the side and watched him clutch the wheel as his chest shuddered. "Are you serious?"

"_Yes."_

The hatred in that room had seared my eyeballs throughout dinner and coffee afterward. Esme and King Tut's mother were a complete, freaking mess. Halfway through dinner, when the older woman criticized the family's choice in cutlery, Edward's mom asked what it had been like for her during the Civil War. The conversation had begun going downhill from the moment we all greeted each other of course, but it spiraled out of control after that comment. The Crypt Keeper suggested Esme needed a face lift and in return, she asked her where she'd gotten hers.

Two hours of that, back and forth, back and forth.

Honestly, I admired them both. It was the best boxing verbal match I'd ever seen and more than likely would ever see. Two rich, educated, and classy women going at it. The Real Housewives had nothing on those two.

To give them credit, Edward and Carlisle tried to referee their altercations but it was useless. There was no hiding that level of contempt.

"Thank you so much for bringing me," I panted out as I slowly rolled to sit straight up.

A green eye peeked out at me from the side. "My grandmother didn't scare you away?"

I snorted. "No way. That was the best thing I'd ever seen. I hope your parents invite me again."

Edward reclined against the seat and let a smile cross over his mouth. "I'm sure this is the first of many times."

* * *

><p><strong>Where I've been:<strong> To make a long story short, I was working on my original stuff, we moved to Colorado from Texas, I got married, worked on my book some more throughout everything, released said book a few months ago, and just lived life. So that's my ten months in a sentence. I lost steam for TD, obviously, and I'm really focusing on my published work, but I promised you guys a long time ago I was going to finish this and I damn well am. ;)

**The plan for TD:** I have six chapters done as of right now. Saying I'll post something once a week is unrealistic so my goal is to post an update every 2-4 weeks until this is finished. Some chapters will be shorter than others but if you're still here, I hope you're fine with putting up with my crap and are fine with it.

If you're interested in checking out my latest novel, pull your slow-burn britches on (now that I think about it, it sort-of reminds me a little of this story). It's called "Kulti" and you can find it on Amazon, for Nook, Kobo, etc. If you've read my FF short story, "A Smokeless Fire" about a soccer player and her coach, it was inspired off that but a full-length novel version.

One last thing-if you've sent me a message over the last year... I haven't read it. I started getting some nasty messages on here, got tired of screening them, and just started avoiding them altogether. I'm sorry, guys. I don't mean to be rude but my little heart can only handle so much. Send me an email or a Facebook message if you want to chat. ;)

Thanks for being so patient, not sure if anyone still cares about TD but if you do, I'll see you here again soon!

xo

Mariana

www dot marianazapata dot com

www dot facebook dot com slash marianazapatawrites


	51. Chapter 51

**HELLO MY WONDERFUL READERS! I am so, so overjoyed to have so many of you still sticking around. Thank you so much, seriously. I will try my very best to not let you guys down. Anyway, here's a short chapter but like I said, I'm just gonna go with whatever works best for the sake of pacing. Sometimes short chapters, sometimes longer chapters... just whatever fits best. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight characters but everything else is in fact, mine. **

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 28, 2012 8:47 EST**

**Subject: Did you get a new set of dentures?**

**^^^ Your mom, my new hero.**

**I can't stop thinking about the look on your grandmother's face when your mom asked her that. Thank her again for inviting me. It was seriously the most entertaining night of my life. **

**Have a good day today. Don't kill Alec.**

**-Bella**

**P.S. Where does bad light end up?**

**In prism. **

**Ha. **

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 28, 9:07 EST**

**Subject: Re: Did you get a new set of dentures?**

**You should have seen them during Christmas one year. I swear on my life my grandmother left a bag of coal under the tree with my mother's name on it. She never admitted it but I know it was her doing.**

**To be fair, my mother got her a copy of the movie The Patriot to "remind her of her childhood."**

**Did I tell you I started reading a great book on anti-gravity? I can't put it down. **

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc. **

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Cullen, Edward<strong>

**Dated: March 28, 9:09 EST**

**Subject: Lunch?**

**My treat.**

**-Edward**

**Edward Cullen**

**Chief Financial Officer, Masen Super Markets Inc. **

**555-555-5665**

* * *

><p><strong>From: Swan, Isabella<strong>

**Dated: March 28, 2012 9:15 EST**

**Subject: Re: Lunch**

**Sure. **** Email me when you want to go, I can go anytime.**

**-Bella**

**Isabella Swan**

**Corporate Purchasing Department, Masen Super Markets Inc.**

**555-555-5878**

* * *

><p>He didn't email me.<p>

A little after noon, when I started to think that maybe he'd forgotten about our plans or that he was too busy, a shadow came over the back of my desk.

"What do you want now, Stalin? I already left those packets you wanted—" I spun my chair around and came face to face with Not Jasper.

It was Edward and his eyebrows were up. "You call Jasper Stalin?" he asked.

I frowned. "Among other things." I blinked at him. "Did you still want to go to lunch?"

He tipped his chin down. "Can you come now?"

I wiggled my index and middle fingers at him. "Two minutes? I need to finish this so no one blows up my phone when they get back from lunch and it isn't done."

"I can wait," he answered without hesitation even as he walked to the cubicle across from mine and next to Jessica's.

Sure enough Jessica's head popped up from her station at the sound of a chair being wheeled across the protective plastic beneath each desk and then the carpet-covered floor. Her eyes widened as she took in the back of Edward retreating figure.

"Do you want me to help you with anything?" he asked, rolling the chair until it sat next to mine.

Snapping my eyes back to him, I blinked. The CFO of MSM was sitting next to me asking if he could help me. What kind of out-of-this-world shit was that?

"It's only an email. Thank you though."

He nodded, looking around my desk and at my cabinets with curiosity.

I'd barely typed in twenty words into the document I was working on when another presence came up behind me.

"Bella, I need you to—" Carmen abruptly stopped talking as she paused her stride right next to my desk.

I looked up to find her gaze on the CFO sitting a foot away, flipping through the daily calendar of positive idioms Angela had given me. In her late thirties, Carmen was extremely attractive and most of the time, pretty nice. Keyword: most of the time. Lately she'd been getting on my nerves, but I'd bet she was on her period or going through a break-up with her latest boyfriend.

"I didn't know you had a visitor." She glanced at Edward again, plastering a smile on her face as she extended her hand in his direction. "Hello, Mr. Cullen."

"Nice to see you, Ms. Loyola," he said, taking hers and shaking it.

"Is there something I can help you with?" my coworker asked.

Mr. Cullen—Edward—gave her that even, slightly condescending look that he'd more than likely perfected over the years. "No."

She nodded. "I wasn't aware our Bella was still doing work for you."

"She's not. We're having lunch together."

He could have simply said 'lunch.'

He also could have not answered her.

But he had.

And I didn't correct him or even say something to Carmen. I just went back to my computer to finish typing my email. The second she was gone, I peeked at him over my shoulder and smiled.

"So what do you want to eat?"

* * *

><p><strong>I will see you guys in another 2-4 weeks :-) <strong>

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